by G R Matthews
“The men will do as they are ordered,” Gongliang said. “They are Empire troops.”
“They are tired and exhausted,” Gang replied.
Haung drew in a breath, if this group was about to descend into bickering and argument then what was the actual state of the mind of the common soldier. He thought of them, laying out on the cold ground either side of the road. They would each have their own worries and thoughts. And the road, it rose and fell through foothills, small mountains, valleys and across rivers before opening out onto the great plain where the capital sat.
Once the Mongols were on that flat ground the rest of the Empire was open to them. The coastal towns to the east, the productive farmland of the south west, the rich mining mountains of the far west. Here, in the north, if you followed the small tracks and roads a little further east were the tea plantations of Heilongjiang. The face of the musician came into his mind and a few notes of the music, played for the duke, filtered through the haze of his memory.
“We need,” Haung began and then paused, searching for the right words, “to reach the capital or we need to buy enough time for the army to reach us. I am open to any suggestion that gives us the best chance of succeeding in one of those two aims.”
The others were silent, thinking, as a cold breeze started in from the north, flowing down the valley. There was a collective, unconscious sigh from the troops and the rustling sound the coats, uniforms and cloaks being drawn tightly against bodies. Autumn was in full swing and the first hint of the coming winter had made its presence known to everyone.
“There is a small town to the south, at the joining of two rivers that was home to a garrison many years ago, before army moved all its operations to the Wall. It’s fortifications remain, though in what state I cannot say for sure. Resupply wagons and troops are not allowed to stop there, or in any of the towns on the road unless there is a purpose built barracks. The closest of those is a day away, at our current pace, but is not defensible. The town is another day beyond,” Gongliang explained.
“Another wall? Why should we be able to hold that when we couldn’t hold the last?” Gang said.
“The town is smaller, the wall lower, which I know is not a good thing. But think of it the other way, with a shorter wall we don’t need as many men to hold it, we can rotate them quicker and now we know how the enemy fight, we can make preparations,” Gongliang explained. “I have some engineers and I’m sure there are a few things we can do to make it more difficult for them, if we have time.”
“And how long will we have to hold this town?” Liu said. “How long until the Emperor’s army reaches us?”
Haung shrugged and realising that, in the darkness this would not be seen, said, “A few days. We know what lies ahead. This road follows the valley to the plain. There are more valleys off to the sides than have ever been counted, each one has a small road or track that lead to little villages and mountain passes. The Mongols could send units through those and ambush us anywhere along the road. If we are agreed that the men cannot outpace the horses, even with a two or three day lead, then we are left with few choices. First, we abandon the army and let each man fend for himself.” He raised a hand before anyone could interject, hoping they could see the gesture, and carried on speaking. “We all know that it is not possible or desired. Secondly, we find a narrow section of this valley and set our battle lines, make our preparations, in the knowledge that they can stay out of range of our few crossbows and even more limited supply of bolts. They’ll happily pick us off from range and send in their cavalry when they have worn us down. Or, worse still, they will find a path through the mountains and attack us from the rear as well. The third option is the town.”
“We are back where we started if we stay in the town. Stuck behind a wall and this time with no way out,” Gang said.
“True,” Haung admitted, “but we know the Emperor’s army is on the way. We will have gained two or three days of time and on a smaller wall, they can send fewer men at us. I was at Wubei, I know how good a defensive wall can be.”
“Wubei had a magical defence system and it was still destroyed,” Enlai whispered.
Haung took a deep breath, unable to deny the truth of that statement, the tall pillars of smoke rising from the ruined city in his memory and that other scene, the inside of the small house, children dangling from ropes and their distraught mother. He pushed the memories aside. “If the town is as Gongliang describes, it was built as a defensive garrison and that has to be the best we can hope for at the moment. If we can hold out for a few days, and we may have help from the town, we stand a chance.”
“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’, Haung,” Liu said.
“They are all I have to work with,” he replied. “We make for the town. Wake the troops, get the orders out. We march in an hour.”
Chapter 9
“This is most interesting,” Yángwū said as he walked into Zhou’s prison. The short man was shaking his head and wore a puzzled look in his eyes.
“Things not going to plan? That is a great shame,” Zhou said.
“Plans, plans, plans. Does everything in your world fit every plan you’ve ever made? Of course it doesn’t. That is life, Zhou. Come, you must have understood that by now, after everything that has happened, or do you still believe in destiny, in fate?” Yángwū moved into the centre of the room and sat on the floor. “Sit, sit. Let me tell you what is going on outside these walls. I would be interested in your take on these matters. You have the view from the other side.”
“I am not telling you anything,” Zhou said as he sat down opposite his jailer.
“Of course not, however let me describe the events of the past day.” Yángwū scratched his chin before resuming. “The rather loud explosion that disturbed my story appears to have been an attempt by the Empire forces to slow down the Mongol army’s traverse of the wall. Some clever fellow, I suspect that engineer, the one always dressed in padded armour and covered in soot, has used huŏ yào to destroy the stair cases. It has been quite inconvenient to lower men to the ground by rope.”
“Good,” Zhou said.
“Indeed. The gate is even more interesting. Now that there are men on the Empire side of the Wall the gate should be easy to open. It is, however, proving quite stubborn. The same officer seems to have blocked the gate with large rocks which we will have moved in another few hours. More interesting, and it is perhaps here that you can help me the most, the gate itself seems impervious to our attempts to open it.” Zhou felt himself being inspected by Yángwū, the man’s eyes piercing into his own, gauging and measuring.
“I do not know how that is being done,” Zhou admitted, “but I am glad it is. The Emperor will know your army is coming and will mass his own against you.”
“I do hope so. I am counting on it,” Yángwū said. “So, the gate is one problem. As you will know from your observations of this army, they like to travel on horseback most of the time. It cannot be good for their spine and posture, but they don’t seem to mind. I have another piece of information for you, to prove my honesty and give you a clear account of the past day, and it is very strange. Every so often, and it seems to happen at random, the ground appears to rise up, at least the plants and grass do, and strangle a few tens of Mongol warriors. Would you know how that was done? It is quite infuriating and, as yet, I have not found a way to combat it. The generals are becoming quite irritated by it. Mongols tend to be quite a superstitious lot, even their magicians seem to be concerned. I am loathe to let them devise their own solution to the problem, it would not be a pretty sight.”
Zhou kept his face still, and tried to hide the thumping in his chest by clasping his hands together. The Spirit of Life, the being who had given him the staff and infused his body with strength in his battle with the Duke, seemed to be taking part in this battle too. “I have no idea.”
“Really?” Yángwū shook his head. “Such a shame. I thought you more intelligent. I have seen something sim
ilar, a long time ago and had it reported to me again much more recently. The Nature Spirit has taken a hand in two battles now, one in the Spirit plane and now one here. Always before, her power was limited to the area surrounding her tree, or those of her brothers and sisters. I looked, you know. A long time ago, I looked for her tree, the source of her life and power. Never found it. No matter, it is clear her power has grown and extended with the joining of the two planes, Nature and Spirit. It has never happened before. Did you know that?”
Zhou let the man ramble on, listening for information and struggling to think of a way to turn anything to his advantage. He shook his head.
“Of course. You must forgive me, I keep thinking you were a fully trained and learned Wu, but you are not. You’ve been in the library though, haven’t you? A great shame that all that learning is lost. Not my choice, I hasten to add. If only they had not turned the heart against me it would still be there for all to learn from,” Yángwū said.
“You know about the library?” Zhou could not help asking the question.
“Of course I do.” Yángwū looked at him in confusion for a moment. The polite but menacing short, round-bellied man suddenly looking much older than the lines around his eyes and face would suggest. “Zhou, really you must learn to listen. I told you that I had been trained on the mountain. My teacher is long gone now, but some of my scrolls would still have existed in the library. The Wu do not discard knowledge lightly. Perhaps, whilst there is a little time, I can assist your education a little. Old habits are hard to let go off and sharing learning, teaching others, is something I did for a very, very long time.”
There was a wistful tone in Yángwū’s voice and Zhou noted the faraway look in his eyes. Memories are powerful, he knew. They recreate times and places where you could live forever. All you have to do is let go of the now. There were times when Zhou was tempted to do just that. To live, to exist, in a time where his wife and child were alive and they were happy. It would not take much, just open the barred and locked doors, demolish the strong walls he had spent time building in his mind. The memories would destroy him, he knew, but the temptation was strong. He gritted his teeth and forced the sadness back down.
“Teach me what?” Zhou said.
“Let’s start at the beginning and see if we can build a common frame of reference.” Yángwū paused for moment, rubbed his chin again and then began. “You know about the planes and the journey through them to the spirit realm? Good,” he said as Zhou nodded, “we can get through that quite quickly then. The first is the void, the nothing, the place where the Fang-shi draw their power. The void and our world were once as one, as were all the planes.”
“I didn’t know that,” Zhou admitted.
“Ah, well there was a battle many thousands of years ago. A battle between the universe that created the world and the creatures that lived on it. There was only that one world. Nothing else existed. The creatures and the universe battled for hundreds of years until one being found a way to break the hold the universe had on this world. Think of it as if the universe had fingers, ten of them, and the creatures learned to prise those fingers off the world. As each lost its grip another plane was born.”
Yángwū raised a finger. “First was the void. It is the plane where this world, our world, once existed. It holds the memory and the agony of that separation. That is the power the Fang-shi tap into, and why so many of them are driven insane or power hungry, the void wants our world back, to make it whole again.”
A second finger went up. “Second is pain. An echo of the universe’s pain at losing its grip on its creation.” Another finger extended upwards, counting. “Third, fire. The searing heat of revenge, a creature that is alive but ephemeral. Capable of so much damage, but able to sustain life. There is something of a fire in all of us, we burn energy to stay alive and to move.”
A fourth finger. “Water is next. Capable of moving, flowing, becoming a vapour or a solid block of ice. It fills every nook and crack. You cannot escape from water, nor should you, we are made of it.”
“Made of water?”
“You have seen cremations. Once the water is gone, the body is just a pile of ash. We are made of water. Now,” his thumb marked number five, “air. We need it to survive, fire needs it to burn and water contains it. By mixing all three, we are born. The sixth,” and he held up his other hand to continue counting, “is rock. It is the firmament upon which we stand, the material from which we build things. Our bones and flesh, the ash left over, is just another form of rock.”
“The seventh realm is death, where the Mongols draw their power from. It comes before life, all things must give way to it. Death is easy to come by, life is harder to create. The universe could have crushed the world when the battles began, one squeeze of its unimaginably giant hands and the world would have died. So easy to do for the universe, but it didn’t. It made a harder decision, it allowed life, the eighth plane.”
“Now we enter the realm of the spirit, the home of original life. You’ve been told there is one of every creature that exists here, the true animal, and that is, as far as it goes, the truth. But extend that thought for a moment and you will encounter a concept so startling that you will wonder why you never thought of it before?”
Yángwū waited. Zhou could see the expectation in his eyes. The stare was not that of captor, interrogator, jailor, it was that of a teacher waiting to see if their pupil could make the leap of intuition and knowledge needed. Zhou stared back.
“And the tenth realm?” Zhou said finally.
Yángwū let go a heavy sigh, of disappointment Zhou was sure. However much his captor wanted Zhou to learn, he was still the jailor, still the man who had brought the red tide to the wall. Still the man who was ultimately responsible for the death of Zhou’s wife and child. He was damned if he was going to play games with him.
“The tenth is the Jade Heaven. The realm where the Jade Emperor surveys this fractured world, where he imprisons the universe, and where he rules from.”
“The Jade Emperor is a myth, a god we don’t need any longer,” Zhou said.
“Oh no, Zhou. The Jade Emperor is real and he is not a god, not as you mean. He is the original spirit of us, of man and woman. It was he who learned to prise the universe’s fingers from the world it created. He was the greatest creation of the universe, with just one flaw, at least a flaw in the universe’s plans. The Jade Emperor, unlike all the other beasts and animals, had the ability to learn new things, to think new ideas, to be his own creator. He gathered the beasts together and had them battle the universe,” Yángwū explained.
“Then he has done nothing for many years. Again I say, we do not need him.” Zhou said, intrigued despite himself.
“Not for many years, you are correct, but soon he will. Soon it will be the meeting of the immortals, the princes he created to rule the planes in-between. They will meet upon the Three Peak Mountain to discuss the planes, to make plans, to reaffirm alliances and to protect the realms. If there is discord in their number then a thousand years of pain will be inflicted upon the world. I intend to be at that meeting.” Yángwū spoke with a fire in his voice, an anger and rage that Zhou had not heard from the man during any session of questions or discussion.
“You want to disrupt the meeting. You want to cause a thousand years of pain,” Zhou said, incredulous. “I will not, cannot allow that. I will kill you first.”
“Disrupt it? A little, but not for that purpose. And note, Zhou, how quick you change from disbelief to acceptance and righteous anger. Is that anger yours or does its home lay elsewhere? You are a puzzle still. No, I do not want to disrupt it. I have bigger dreams than that. I want to be the Jade Emperor, to take over his mantle.”
“You just said he is immortal and that he battled the universe, there is no way you could, anyone could, defeat such a being,” Zhou said. “You’re mad.”
“Immortal is just a word we use to mean long-lived, it does not mean ‘cannot be ki
lled’. The Wu are long-lived, but they eventually die. I have seen the Prince of the Spirit Realm die. I tried to take his power, his strength and spirit, but it went to someone else. It would be impossible to deny that I also want some measure of revenge and when I become the Jade Emperor that will be an easy task to accomplish,” Yángwū said.
“You are just a Wu, like me,” Zhou said.
“I am Wu no longer. The spirit cast me out, denied me, and still denies me entrance to the realm. I had to search for new power, for a new way. It took hundreds of years, but in the far north, amongst ice and volcanoes I found the power I desired. I studied for another hundred years to become like my new master, and then I killed him and took his power. I am the Prince of the Fire Realm, and my seat at the council is assured.”
Zhou looked at the small man. His mind was telling him the old Wu had been driven mad by the years away from the spirit realm, but his heart trembled and his stomach was queasy. There was no evidence for the man’s words, no aura of incredible power, no heat radiating off of him, nothing to suggest he was anything but a bitter man who had lived too many years with revenge in his heart. Zhou swallowed, bringing moisture to his dry mouth.
“If that is true, why do you have need of the Mongols and the invasion of the Empire?” Zhou asked. “It seems a petty waste of an immortal life and power.”
“The other immortals are on their way to the mountain. We travel as all men do, by land and sea. The war will hold them up, delay their journey, put some of them in peril, distract them. The fewer who make it to the meeting, the better chance I have. The war is nothing but that,” Yángwū said.
“You are mad,” Zhou said.
“We shall see, little Wu. We shall see.”
Chapter 10