The Blue Mountain (The Forbidden List Book 2)

by G R Matthews

  No one else in the room was as still as he was. The quiet wrapped around him even in the bustle and constant chatter in the room. He breathed. Slow and steady with unconscious thought. Air filled his lungs, infused his blood with life and the unwanted waste was expelled. His heart beat in time with the breaths, pushing the life around his body. The life created awareness and the room came into focus. A sharper edge to the tables, a louder rustle to the paper, a clearer tone to the voices. Without looking directly at any group he was aware of the conversations, the movement of the people, and the mood within the room.

  “Colonel?” The general’s voice, a hint of irritation, a need for respect, some anger below the surface and fear certainly.

  The quiet fell away and Haung took a disappointed breath.

  “Yes, General?”

  “I was asking you about the Jiin-Wei,” the general snapped.

  “What about them?”

  “I am given to understand that they have access to the same magic that the Fang-Shi use.” The general turned to receive another report.

  “Many of the Jiin-Wei are trained to use some aspects of magic, General.” Haung watched the man’s eyes flick back and forth across the page. “More than that, I do not know.”

  “What?” The general thrust the signed report back into the hands of the aide who had delivered it. “You are a Jiin-Wei. Surely you know whether they are or are not.”

  “Each Jiin-Wei is trained according to their strengths and weaknesses, General. No two are completely alike. Some Jiin-Wei can do things I cannot and I can accomplish tasks that they cannot. It is the strength of the Jiin-Wei to have diverse talents to meet all eventualities.”

  “You can do magic?” The general clasped his hands behind his back let his gaze wander across the room.

  “General, might I know the purpose of this enquiry?” Haung fell back into habits instilled during his training. Give nothing away without gaining more in return. Remember, not all questions are innocently asked or directed to elicit the information they seemed to ask for. Haung matched the general’s pose. Feet shoulder width apart, hands behind his back and chest puffed out. There was a message in the question, but he could not decipher it.

  “No particular reason,” the general said and Haung was sure he was lying. “Idle interest.”

  Haung chose to remain quiet and watch the activity within the room. The more he looked, the more he realised that there was something missing. The realisation forced him to pay more attention to the different groups moving around. He focused upon the closest table. The aides and administrators were moving paper around the desk. Picking up notes, reading and then adding more notes to the already full paper. That page went back onto the desk and into the piles. He switched his gaze to the other tables noting the same things going on. Everything looked quite normal.

  “General,” Haung said and cursed himself for a fool, “may I see the most recent reports from the scouts.”

  The General of the Wall did not move from the spot. Haung saw the man’s jaw tighten and there was a slight shift of his shoulders.

  “General?” Haung asked again.

  “Colonel, no scout has reported in today.”

  “With respect, General, it is the most recent reports I wish to see. I am aware that scouts do not report in every day. Indeed, I am aware that there are sometimes weeks before a scout returns. I just want to see what they have reported recently.”

  There was a pause. The whole room must have heard the request. Haung was sure a few of the staff directed glances towards the general. It was clear that they were all loyal to the man, but clearer still was the awareness that something was not quite right.

  “Colonel, no scout has reported in for over two weeks,” the general admitted.

  “Patrol reports?” Haung asked.

  “Apart from yours, they all say that the land is clear.”

  “When did the last patrol come in, General?” Haung pushed.

  The general waved one of the aides over. The man handed the general a scroll which the officer unrolled and scanned.

  “According to our lists the last report was filed midday yesterday,” the general said. “It records that the land beyond the wall is clear.”

  “Forgive me, General, have there been no reports today?”

  The general scanned the scroll once again. “No, Colonel. None today.”

  “And when was the first patrol due to report back?” Haung asked, though he feared he knew the answer.

  The general spent a long moment re-rolling the scroll and handing it back to the aide who took it with a shaking hand.

  “The first patrol should have reported back this morning, Colonel.” The general did not meet his eyes.

  “How many have not reported in?” Haung took a step towards the general.

  “We now have three patrols overdue.” The general looked to the door.

  Haung stopped. Three patrols, at least forty-five men missing beyond the wall. For one patrol to be late back was not unheard of. Delays in camp, the weather, the investigation of a sighting, anything could lead to a delay of an hour or two. The first patrol was now almost a day late. The evening sun was setting and night fell with remarkable speed in a northern winter.

  “Have you put the wall on high alert?” Haung asked. He bypassed the officer and headed to the table of reports. Rifling through the papers on it, scanning them for information. Not really sure what he was looking for, but searching for something to help.

  “Haung, I have been the General on this wall for a long time. This is nothing to panic about. Patrols are late all the time.” There was a note of conviction in the man’s voice. Haung considered the tone, deciding that it was there to convince the staff in the room and the general himself. Self-delusion.

  “The alert?”

  “Of course. It is standard procedure when patrols are late. The guard has been increased on the gate and the second shift has moved up to the walls alongside the first,” the general said and this time there was the ring of truth in the words. “We are not new to this, Colonel.”

  Haung looked back, over his shoulder, and saw the man start to come alive again.

  “Not two days ago my patrol was attacked, General.” Haung snatched up a writing stylus and with quick strokes wrote on a blank sheet. He thrust the completed message into the hands of a startled aide. “Take this and find Master Gang and Liu, Corporal Enlai too, if you can find him. Have them all brought here. Get a move on.”

  “Colonel, I’ll thank you not to commandeer my staff,” the general said, but did not stop the aide from rushing off to follow Haung’s orders. “There is no need for panic or concern. The patrols will report in soon. It is better to be calm and considered in these situations. Something a few more years of command will teach you.”

  “The patrols are late. We were attacked. The flow of refugees has all but ceased.” Haung said, ticking off the points on his fingers. “We have to do something more to prepare. Have the Fang-Shi been informed? The troops recalled from the town?”

  “Colonel Haung, we have taken all the precautions needed at this stage. The magicians are better off out of the way and would not be best pleased to be dragged from their studies because of a few late men.”

  “The troops then?”

  “No, Colonel. We do not need to send everyone into a panic every time a patrol is late,” the general snapped.

  “General,” Haung paused and took a calm breath, “are we not taught to ‘rely not on the likelihood of the enemy’s not coming, but on our own readiness to receive him’.”

  “Do not quote the manual to me, Colonel. I had it memorised whilst you were still at your mother’s breast.” The general’s face flushed with anger.

  Haung stared back at him. No apology in his eyes. “If I am wrong then you can inform the Emperor...”

  “You can be sure that I will, Colonel,” the general interrupted. “For your insubordination and insults, I will see your rank stripp
ed away. This is my wall, Colonel. Mine to command. My troops to deploy as I see fit. My decisions and mine alone. Do not forget it.”

  “I will not forget, General.” Haung turned away, absently scratching his arm as he returned to his study of documents on the table.

  A few moments later, the door to the command room opened and the aide sent by Haung stumbled in. Behind him came Corporal Enlai and the two masters, Gang and Liu.

  “Evening Colonel,” Enlai said, “you asked to see me?”

  Gang and Liu stood back and waited. Haung glanced at them, noting that their eyes moved swiftly around the room, gauging the mood.

  “I’ll go and get my hammer then,” Gang grumbled. “Looks like there is a fight coming.”

  Liu focused his gaze on Haung’s face and then let it slip over to the general’s. “I’ll come with you. We’ll meet you on the wall.”

  The two masters gave Haung a knowing nod and left the room.

  “Sir?” Enlai said.

  “Enlai, see if you can rouse the commanders of the third shift and ask them to present themselves here within the hour,” Haung said.

  “Do not carry out that order, Corporal,” the general said without turning away from Haung. “The troops, Colonel, are mine to command.”

  “General,” Haung began and then stopped as the sound of a large gong being repeatedly struck echoed through the room.

  “I don’t reckon they’ll need telling, Colonel,” Enlai said with a sad smile upon his face.

  Chapter 31

  “Zhou,” she called after him. The name, his name, followed him out through the door and onto the street.

  The onset of winter was on the breeze and his breath misted in front of his face. In that cloud, he saw the face of his child wearing the same smile he had when Zhou said goodbye in Wubei. The same look of pride in the boy’s eyes as he turned in his seat to look at his father, one more time. Zhou caught his hand halfway through the wave he had given the small boy. The mist drifted away on the wind like ash from the burnt out remains of his home. The ruin where the blackened bones of his family lay. Their funeral pyre in the lost battle for the city.

  “Zhou,” she said and her hand rested on his shoulder. His wife’s voice was music to his ears, sweet notes of welcome. The melodious rise and fall, the joy and the concern, counterpoints of passion. The smile that formed on his face was one that had been absent for a long time. He placed his hand over hers and patted it gently. The gesture of a lifetime together, a ritual reconnection, familiarity.

  “Zhou,” she said again and he turned. The darkness of evening turned the world to grey, making the shadows deeper and stealing the colour from her skin

  But it was her face, her eyes that looked up at him with sympathy and empathy. The robe she wore had faded since he had seen her last. Not surprising, he thought. It had been over a year and she must have had a hard time finding him. All those days and nights in the sun and rain would leach the colour from any clothing, no matter how rich, how good a quality. But there was no mistaking it. The long robe was the same she had been wearing that day. His free hand found her cheek and cupped it with infinite tenderness.

  “Zhou,” she spoke again. “Let it go.”

  “I can’t,” he said. The sounds of the street vanished and all he heard was her voice, his own heart and breath.

  “You have to,” she said. “It will consume you. Let it go.”

  “I can’t. It is all I have,” he gazed into her eyes, darker and shadowed by the rising moon.

  “You must,” she said and her hand covered his upon her cheek.

  The touch was everything. It was the summer sun high in the sky. The comfort of a warm bed on winter’s morning. The heat of a bath easing tired muscles. The last breath, heavy with sleep, before the dreams. It was her hand, her smooth flesh on his. He savoured the sensation. Willed for time to stop, the earth to stop spinning, the moment to last forever.

  He looked into her eyes. Sounds invaded his moment. The clash of steel, the cries of wounded, crackle of fire and the crash of timbers, shouted orders and alarms. The screams. All those screams. Mashed and mingled together, death’s melody played on the bodies of men, women and children. The song of war heard once, never forgotten.

  His breath quickened and his heart beat faster. The shadows over her eyes grew wider, darker, and her skin paled. Bone white. Ivory. The smile he had loved fell away and was revealed as death’s face, grinning at him. Her fingers, a moment ago warm and comforting, grew cold. Zhou felt panic rise in his chest, fear confusing his mind. The pulse of the thread tying him to the spirit called to him. A blue ladder to safety. He fled towards it, but there was something else.

  In his vision, the skull of his wife, fleshless and emotionless stared at him. Around it, on the polished lumps and bumps of brow ridge, nose and jaw, red snakes began to writhe. Blue called him to safety and red desired destruction. The pull was strong. His chest hurt.

  “Zhou,” a voice called to him. Between the gristly thump of sword into flesh, the twig snap of bone and the wrenching calls of the wounded, it found its way into his mind. “No,” it said.

  And the world collapsed. Colour flooded back in. Subtle hues of green and brown. The buildings swam about him, eaves and windows tilting, the dirt street swayed back and forth.

  He fell to his knees, slipping from his wife’s grasp, pressing his hands into the dirt. Zhou sucked in great lungful’s, the cold air cooling his throat.

  “Zhou,” Xióngmāo said, “you have to let it go. You cannot live there for the rest of your life.”

  “I can’t.”

  Above the beating of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears he heard another sound. The rapid beating of a gong, loud and clear through the streets.

  “The alarm,” she said.

  Zhou raised his head and looked up into Xióngmāo’s eyes.

  “We have to leave,” she said.

  “No.” Zhou brought his legs underneath his body and stood. Shaky, but upright. “I am going to the wall.”

  Chapter 32

  “General, the gate is barred and the towers report ready,” the officer who had rushed up to the group said.

  “Good, inform the third shift that I expect them to be formed up and ready within the next thirty minutes,” the general replied. The officer bowed and departed.

  “I can’t see anything,” Gang grumbled. The large man leaned on the wall’s battlements and peered into the darkness.

  “I’d have thought all those years in dark rooms would have enhanced your night vision, Gang,” Liu laughed at him.

  “I relied mostly on touch.” Gang smiled and winked. Corporal Enlai snorted but recovered quickly, turning it into a cough.

  “The alarm is set to sound when a raiding party is within twenty li of the wall, half a day’s travel,” the general explained.

  “Whose travel?” Haung asked.

  “Sorry?” The General of the Wall glanced away from his own inspection of the darkness.

  “Whose rate of travel was used to set the alarm?” Haung clarified. “Was it a man walking? A group on horseback or an army?”

  “I fail to see how that can be important.”

  “The group that attacked my patrol were on horseback. And they were fresh horses too.” Haung moved up to the wall and added his own efforts to those already searching for signs of the enemy. “My point is, they could be closer than we think.”

  “Or they may not be here at all,” said a soft voice from behind the group.

  Haung turned. Soldiers were moving along into their positions. They flowed around the man dressed in dark robes who stood still in the centre, the rock in the stream. The wrinkled face that peered out from beneath the hood would have looked frightening if it were not for the man’s smile.

  “Master Shen.” Haung greeted the newcomer with a smile of his own and a deep bow.

  “Apprentice Haung,” Shen nodded, “General, Masters.”

  “What did you mean
Master Shen?” the general asked as the Fang-Shi moved out of the stream of soldiers and closer to the group.

  “Hmmm...” the old man muttered, his gaze focused on the darkening night beyond the wall.

  “Master, the alarm?” Haung prompted.

  “What? Oh yes, sorry.” The magician turned back to the group. “The alarm does not register raiding parties or horses or any such thing. If it did, the alarm would have gone off at least once a week since it was built.”

  “Are you saying that the alarm going off might be a mistake?” the general said, a note of surprise in his voice.

  “No, not a mistake.” Shen looked from face to face, seeking something. Haung felt that he lingered longest on his face. Their eyes locked, but all Haung could respond with was confusion. Shen sighed. “What has the state of education come to these days?”

  “Master Shen, if you could get to the point, I would be grateful,” the general said.

  “General,” Shen said, but did not favour the man with a bow. “The alarm was not set to record the approach of an army or even a raiding party. The wall was built to defend against those. The troops were placed upon the wall to deal with any threat from an invading army, however unlikely that was to be.” He waved his hand to indicate the high, thick wall and the hundreds of troops stationed along the section they stood on. “The alarm was created to recognise a particular threat and, to my knowledge, has only been set off three times in the past century. Outside of the regular tests, of course.”

  “What threat?” Haung asked.

  “It detects the peculiar signs and auras of magic,” Shen said.

  “There are Fang-Shi out there?” Haung asked.

  “What?” Shen shook his head. “No, of course there are no Fang-Shi out there. We have sat behind this wall safe, for centuries, and we have forgotten.”