SHIANG

by C. F. Iggulden

  21

  Greens

  Marias sat in the front parlour of a home belonging to a family who would not leave merely because their front door had been kicked in and three strangers shoved into their midst. Lord Ran had gone to a window seat, where he rubbed his injured shoulder and wiped the glass at intervals, peering out at the street. The Fool had beamed when he saw a baby playing with wooden blocks. Though the mother snatched her child away from him, the Fool sat on the floor and stacked them in different colour combinations. The baby had started to wail then at the sight of someone else using his blocks. Marias felt the sound could not possibly grow more shrill, until it did. The baby clawed the air with tiny hands, struggling to get away from its mother and back to the blocks.

  The woman watched the strangers who had invaded her house with big, dark eyes. The old man who sat in a chair and stared unblinking at them might have been her husband, but Marias thought he was more likely her father. Not a word had been said since they’d arrived. They watched each other in mutual fear.

  Marias saw a kettle was being warmed in the embers of a small fire. It began to whistle and the mother looked at it and frowned, but did not dare move. It was Marias who moved slowly to take the kettle off the heat, holding out her hands.

  ‘We will not hurt you,’ she said. ‘All we want is to save our friends and to go home.’

  Lord Ran snorted at that, but he did not turn from where he sat, staring out of the window.

  ‘Do you understand me?’ Marias lifted the kettle as she spoke, so the whistling died away. She looked for cups. The mother’s gaze drifted to a cupboard and Marias put the kettle on the bare bricks of the hearth and gathered a handful of chipped mugs.

  ‘Do you have any tea?’ she said softly.

  The mother nodded.

  ‘Of course we have tea. But this is my home and I did not ask you to break down my door and walk in here. You should go, before my husband comes back.’

  ‘They’ll kill us if we do,’ Marias said.

  To her irritation, Lord Ran sniffed again.

  ‘What?’ she said.

  He stared dully back, but she kept her gaze on him until he was forced to reply.

  ‘They might kill me, or the one they call the Fool, but not you. Haven’t you noticed? Gabriel watches you whenever you are around him. What can possibly be so special about you?’

  He spoke with scorn and Marias coloured as anger flared in her. Lord Ran had said almost nothing for weeks, but the moment they were alone, he found his courage?

  ‘I am here to try and bring back my … man.’ She’d almost said ‘master’, but she did not want to admit to being a slave, not to him. Anyway, were there even slaves in Darien? Perhaps she breathed free air in that place, the same as anyone.

  ‘He’s gone, dear,’ Lord Ran said.

  She looked at him as if she’d been stung, but he shrugged. A blanket lay loose on one of the chairs and he picked it up and wrapped it around his shoulders.

  ‘It was my mistake, to use the stone like that. Whoever you think he is … well, he is gone, as I say.’ He wrapped the blanket tighter. ‘I will take tea, yes, if there is a cup going,’ he said to the mistress of the house.

  To Marias’ astonishment, the woman dipped her head and began bustling around. She had accepted the tone of his voice as much as the words. Marias shook her head in irritation.

  ‘If Taeshin is truly gone, it’s your doing, you useless, feeble old bastard,’ Marias said clearly.

  The Fool stopped playing with his blocks. Lord Ran turned to her and wiped a shining bead from the end of his nose.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I started this, all of it. I wanted to make them better – faster and stronger. Instead … well, you’ve seen what they are. Mourn your man if you must, but don’t expect him back.’

  ‘If he’s gone, completely gone,’ Marias said, ‘why did they bring me? You, I understand. The Fool is one of them, though his mind is gone. So why me? If there’s no trace left of the one I love?’

  She paused as she realised what she’d said. It was true, though a slave’s love was a path to misery and humiliation. There were a hundred stories about such things and they always ended badly for the slave. Lord Ran didn’t seem to have noticed that slip, or perhaps he just didn’t care. He frowned as he considered.

  ‘He brought you a long way … and he put us out of harm’s way the moment he came under fire. This is a new science, dear. Perhaps there is some remnant in him, I don’t know. I am cold and tired and afraid. Thank you, yes, two spoons.’ He said the last to the woman, who had held up a tin of sugar as he spoke.

  Marias raised her gaze to the ceiling.

  ‘If there is even a whisper of Taeshin in him, I will call it out.’

  Lord Ran sipped his tea and nodded approvingly to the woman, who seemed pleased.

  ‘If you try that, Gabriel might not kill you,’ he said. ‘But the other two will.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Marias replied. ‘You stay here with the Fool, drinking tea. I am not a coward. I am going out.’

  Lord Ran sighed. He was truly weary, in a way that the young woman would not understand until she had seen at least sixty winters. Assuming she lasted even one more.

  ‘My dear girl, I did not say I would not come with you. But could I please finish my tea first?’

  Marias nodded and thanked the lady of the house when she put a second cup in her hand. The heat and sweetness were more than welcome. As she drank, the Fool beamed at them both.

  Hondo suddenly understood that he would die in that street, in a city he did not know. The forces at play were vast, far beyond mere mastery of a sword. It would be like a couple of hares attacking lions. He looked at his fellow hare, Je, and made himself smile in encouragement. Flames still burned on the scattered bodies of militia soldiers. It was no place for a man.

  Hondo wanted very much to walk away. He had tested his courage a thousand times. There was no need for a sword saint to challenge mountains. Yet he had seen the blade the man of Shiang carried. The scabbard was dark red with a gold band, the hilt patterned red and black, in dyed sharkskin. It was the Yuan family sword and Tellius had been right – it had to have been taken from the king’s dead hand. The three who stood in defiance in that Darien yard were all enemies of the state in Shiang. They were traitors, as well as murderers. Hondo thought back to his oath of allegiance to the throne and chuckled bitterly to himself. To defend or avenge with my life the person of the monarch. If he walked away, he would leave his honour in a foreign city.

  Je drew his sword, still looking to Hondo for a decision.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Hondo said to him. He heard the lady Sallet take note of their exchange. She began to call orders, but it was not her concern how a man chose to end his life. He saw Je nod and salute him with the blade.

  ‘It would be my honour to fight at your side,’ the twin said.

  Hondo nodded. That was true.

  ‘Stay low, use the Greens as distraction. Keep moving and work with me,’ Hondo said, stalking across the road. He heard more voices roar for them to come back, but both men ignored them. They reached the rows of rubble and burned bodies and brought their swords low, ready to strike.

  Gabriel had the measure of the armoured creatures attacking him, he was sure of it. He needed just a few moments to catch his breath and take stock of the situation, but of course they would not give him that. He, Thomas and Sanjin were being battered and there was no time to consider tactics, only to react and react again. Flame seemed to have little effect on them. Sanjin had been backhanded flat to discover that. Only the intercession of Thomas had saved him as the thing stepped on his chest and brought all its weight to bear.

  They were not immune to the sword, Gabriel was certain. He struck a dozen times as they came at him like a building falling, but the armour was sound and there was no obvious slit to see or breathe through, as he might have aimed for in a man’s helmet. Still he kept striking, over and over, as if h
e was trying to sharpen his sword on them. The Yuan blade could be trusted not to break, even if it didn’t cut for him as it once had. More, his attacks kept them off-balance and spoiled a dozen moves. Yet every time he batted one of them away, bullets would whine around him from fresh militia men gathering across the road. Gabriel could not take a full breath and he was growing furious.

  They tried to use the suits as a weapon, of course, just as he would have expected. Two of them focused on him and Gabriel fended off elbows, knees, even the helmet of one as he sidestepped. Armoured warriors were hard to fight at the best of times, but they tired easily and they were slower. Not these green men. If they were even men. Gabriel could sense intelligence in the way they reacted. He thought there were trained soldiers inside them – to fight a man is to know him, as his father had once said. He blinked as sweat stung his eyes and a bullet ripped through his chest, a skilful shot at that distance. The pain was appalling, but he sealed it with one hand.

  Gabriel just needed a little quiet to find the knack of the air shield Thomas used. It was a more subtle thing than flame or speed, and he could not do it. Without any let-up in the attacks, he could not make proper use of what he had dragged from the Bracken Stone, though it surged in him like a storm wave. Perhaps if he’d managed to bind the stone to his arm …

  He stopped a punch from one of the monstrous suits with his free hand and struck automatically across the elbow joint with his sword. His speed and strength made his response a savage blur. To his delight, the joint buckled. Liquid gleamed from it, mingling red and green as it dripped down the massive arm. Gabriel smiled through bloody teeth. He thought he heard a cry of pain from whoever hid inside it.

  ‘Come out and face us,’ he called to the thing, gesturing with his sword.

  The one he had injured stepped back in perfect balance as it examined the damage. The arm was locked straight, Gabriel saw. He brushed his hand past his face as bullets whined like flies around him. More of them struck and pain restored his focus. He looked past the green warrior to the men who shot from the road with shaking hands and wide eyes.

  Gabriel witnessed Hondo and Je clambering over the broken remains of the estate wall. He frowned at two swordsmen daring to step into that place of fire and destruction. If the green warriors noticed them, they gave no sign. He looked back to the one he had injured and saw a green sword coming at him, faster than it had any right to be.

  ‘Strike the joints, Thomas,’ he roared as he ducked and came up again. ‘Sanjin! Fire has no effect. Hit the elbow!’

  He shouted the last just to make the one in front of him react. As he had hoped, it turned to shelter the undamaged arm. Gabriel lunged then for its knee, driving down through the joint. His sword had his unnatural strength behind it as it broke through layers – and the leg collapsed. More blood and green fluid spurted and that time he was certain he heard a cry of agony.

  In a great spasm, the green warrior launched off its other leg and tried to grab and crush him. Gabriel stepped left as he might have done in his first life. He didn’t try to block the lunge, just let the wounded opponent surge past and struck at its back, to wound. It was the wrong move against armour, the product of years of training to fight men. His instincts had to be rethought and still they would not allow him a moment of reflection.

  Before he could turn, he found himself under attack without magic. The man he faced was of Shiang, which was strange enough in itself. The swordsman carried a blade the mirror of Gabriel’s own, with a hilt of black and orange. Gabriel’s astonishment almost got him killed. Hondo wore a simple tunic and leggings, but he moved with a fluid grace and he struck half a dozen times before Gabriel had come to terms with it. He needed to face the green monster that was surely rising at his back, but for a few vital instants, he had to defend in desperation or lose his head.

  When he managed to beat the sword aside and strike back, the man read his intention and was not there, so that all his speed came to nothing. It did not matter how fast Gabriel moved, the man seemed to know where he would aim. Gabriel began to add blows no ordinary man could have produced, his temper fraying. As the swordsman blocked his blade, Gabriel hammered his elbow into the man’s face, staggering him. He did so twice more, at such a speed it would have been like being hit by a thrown brick. The swordsman’s face was bloody and he stood dazed and helpless. As Gabriel raised his sword to kill him, he heard the grate and creak of armour at his back. His thoughts scattered like frightened birds.

  Behind him the Sallet Green had risen up with an iron gatepost in its hands. It swung with appalling force, so that Gabriel crashed a dozen yards over the surface of the road, skidding to a stop with blood pouring from his mouth and his back broken. His sword tumbled through the air, disappearing into the rubble and the burned dead.

  He had never known pain like it before. He began to heal himself as fast as he could, but he had been torn inside, with vital parts wrenched. Gabriel felt the world pulse in and out, and he knew fear then: of the grey land, of dying once more. He thought he could hear the grating footsteps of the green giant dragging itself through the rubble after him. Gabriel tried to breathe and discovered he could not. Blood poured from his mouth and steamed as it struck the cold ground. All he could do was try to crawl away.

  Thomas shouted in anger and frustration. He was being engaged by one of the Greens and a grim young swordsman who seemed unnaturally skilled. Thomas used the speed he’d been given to match the man’s attacks and dodge the green warrior. He kept his air shield around Gabriel for a time, before he was forced too far back. He was barely holding his own when another of the damned green things broke Gabriel almost in half with an iron post.

  In shaking fury, Thomas closed one hand in the air, so that a band tightened on the neck of the armoured Green that faced him. He concentrated on just holding it in place as he struck out at the young swordsman. Divide and conquer was the key, he was certain. He was rewarded by a stripe of blood as he broke through the man’s defence. The response was blistering and Thomas felt the sick pain of a gash in his hip as he swayed aside from a plunging strike that would have impaled him. He fell back on his defence, where his speed could counter the rattle of blows. Whoever the man was, he was too skilful and too determined to take on.

  As he defended, Thomas concentrated on the green figure clawing at its throat a few yards away. With a vast effort of will, he began to twist the armoured head in a band of air that was as unyielding as an iron collar. His concentration took him almost outside his own body as he defended sword attacks and even bullets from the perimeter. All the while, he turned the massive green head, so that it was forced to look left, then further. The green warrior began to panic then, Thomas could feel it. He pressed even harder and his blade moved with a life of its own. Power poured out of him and he thought he would have been dead if not for the torrent he’d received from the Bracken Stone.

  With a crack, the green warrior dropped bonelessly to the ground. Thomas opened his mouth to shout in triumph, but was tackled by another Green moving like a train. He went down under its weight, seeing the young Shiang swordsman loom over him, looking for a killing blow.

  Thomas pushed back. They’d caught him by surprise and the green warriors were both fast and powerfully protected. Yet he had their measure. All things needed air – and all men stood in it. He rose to his feet not through the strength of muscle and bone but his own will. His body was weak and bleeding, too battered to stand on its own. Yet air settled too around the green warrior straining for him, pulling it upright. The young swordsman danced in and Thomas held him still. Bullets slowed to orange trails as he made a circle of silence around them.

  ‘Now then, gentlemen. You’ve had your best shot – and here we are, still. So, what shall I do with you?’

  He glanced past them as the last of the Greens moved. It had been damaged and it limped, reminding him of Sanjin. Gabriel was still lying wounded, though the man was already trying to sit up. Thomas smile
d at the sight. They were hard to kill twice.

  Sanjin came from the side, pouring flame at the young swordsman, forcing him to breathe what killed him. Held in place by Thomas, Je could not turn away from the furnace. His life was gone in a single beat, though Sanjin kept burning him and yelling in ugly triumph. Thomas saw Sanjin bore a brutal gash from forehead to chin, so that his face was almost in two pieces. He was red with his own blood and pain and rage. In relief, Thomas let the burned swordsman fall and turned to look at the green warrior.

  When Thomas was sure the thing was watching him, he closed his hand slowly to a fist. The result was terrible, as the Sallet Green was crushed by forces no one could see. Green panels crumpled and blood poured from the joints and plates. Someone screamed within until it was suddenly choked off. Thomas smiled. His fists were shaking in the air as he broke the green warrior. When there was no life left, he relaxed his grip and let it drop. The green armour faded to grey as he watched.

  He looked at Sanjin, as survivors of a disaster might have looked to one another. A bullet whirred past them in that moment and Thomas frowned, thickening the air. The effort made him grunt and he realised he had broken ribs. He felt his neck and winced – his clavicle had also been snapped. Every step and breath would be painful until it healed. All he wanted was to find a place to rest and recover. He doubted the people of Darien would allow them that luxury.

  ‘Where is Gabriel?’ Sanjin asked. His voice was hoarse and his lips were torn and still swelling obscenely. As he spoke, he pulled a piece of glass out of his arm with a growl. Something from the house had smashed or exploded in the battle and Sanjin had taken the worst of it. He was panting and wild, standing half-bent as his wounds made him weak.

  Thomas saw the last of the Greens had clambered over the rubble, despite dragging one leg and one arm. Gabriel was sitting up by then, but the other swordsman had seen him and was staggering towards him as well, though clearly wounded. As Thomas stared, he saw the strange swordsman pause and reach down to something on the ground.