The Blue Mountain (The Forbidden List Book 2)

by G R Matthews

  “How many?” the general asked. His armour was much more ornate. Thick leather sewn with iron plates and great shoulder guards. All of this was covered with intricate scroll work of red and gold. On the man’s head, a rounded helmet with large cheek guards that tied underneath his chin.

  “Thousands,” Xióngmāo said. She had settled for a simple chest piece of separate leather pieces tied together that allowed flexible movement whilst affording some protection. She carried a long spear in her hand, a short bow in a sheath and quiver on her back.

  “Corporal,” the general called. “How long till sunrise?”

  “About an hour, General,” Enlai returned.

  “Good,” the general said.

  Though, to Haung, there was little cheer to be found in the news. Getting a first look at thousands of soldiers and magicians who were determined to kill you was not, on reflection, good news. He checked on Zhou again. Is this how he felt when we turned up at his city, ranged before its walls, ready to raze the city to the ground?

  “General, forgive my presumption, but what is the Emperor to do about this threat?” Enlai bowed as he asked.

  “He is relying on our forces here to turn back the threat, Corporal. After all, it is what the wall was designed to do and why we have stationed troops here for so long,” the general replied. Haung noted the tight grip the man took on his sword.

  “He did not say that though, did he?” Xióngmāo said. Her back was to the group and she was staring out across the land in the direction of the incoming army.

  “Why do you say that?” Haung asked. He took a sharp breath when she looked at him. Her eyes had gone from the dark brown common to the Empire to a lighter green and were flecked with small blue sparks which fluttered around like butterflies over a flower.

  “Because he has not spoken to the Emperor,” she said.

  “Lady,” the general blustered, “you are here on sufferance and because you appear to be able to give us intelligence on the enemy. Do not push your station too far or I will have you removed from the wall.”

  “General, what did the Emperor say upon learning that two Wu were on the wall?” Xióngmāo asked.

  “He did not seem to care,” the general said. “He has more important worries at the moment.”

  Haung saw Xióngmāo smile before she looked away and back out over the land before the wall. He pondered the look for a moment then, checking his sword was still in its scabbard, rubbed at the bites on his arm and went to lean on the wall. The first smudge of light brightened in the eastern sky, edging over the mountains. Early morning was always a strange sight. In days past, when missions as a Jiin-Wei had kept him out all night, perched on roof tops or peering through windows, the early dawn was full of pale golden light. A yellow that promised warmth at the end of a cold night. Of course, there were other dawns. Other mornings when he could never be sure that sun had risen at all, it would stay hidden behind a veil of cloud and rain. Today was going to be a bright day.

  “Corporal,” the general spoke. “Go and enquire when Master Shen and the rest of his magicians are going to join us on the wall.”

  As the Enlai left the group another messenger arrived to hand the general a collection of scrolls. The officer unfurled one after another, scanning their contents before commanding the messenger to deposit them in the tower.

  “The other towers report that all is clear in their sections. The ones to the east, where dawn has already broken, have had no sightings of the enemy,” the general reported to Haung.

  “Then we can assume that they are all coming here, General.” Haung said from his position on the wall. “It would be prudent to have troops from other towers ready to assist us.”

  “No,” the general paced back and forth as he spoke. “The towers close by need to be garrisoned in case this is a hoax, a feint.”

  “What about the ones further away? Those in the mountains or close to the east coast? If there is no enemy present then they can spare us a regiment or two,” Haung said.

  “Jinzhou Haung,” the general stopped for a moment, “we are fully garrisoned and at our peak strength. The army was placed here to defend this section of wall against attack and for centuries they have stood mostly idle. Now is the time for action. The time when we can prove our strength in battle. We do not need help from any other Jiangjun, any other general. Consider also the distance. They are too far away. Let us wait in peace and quiet.”

  Haung watched the general as he spoke. There were drops of sweat upon his brow, his hand had not left the hilt of his sword and the man’s foot tapped out the rhythm of his words. The little itch between Haung’s shoulder blades had grown into a nasty bump of suspicion.

  “The Dragon Gates. Distance means little with those.” Haung phrased his statement with care and spoke in a soft tone, realising he was pushing the questioning past the general’s instruction to stop.

  “General.” Enlai’s voice cut across the discussion. “Master Shen reports that his magicians are still engaged upon their task and will be on the walls when they are needed.”

  The general stopped pacing. Haung saw a worried look form upon the man’s face. It did not last, a flicker. A professional soldier did not allow their fear or trepidations to show. A general, never. Everyone had them, Haung knew, but you did not let it show.

  “General?” Haung asked.

  “It is not a concern, Haung. They will be here when we need them. The ways of the Fang-Shi are hard to understand. Even for a Jiin-Wei.”

  Haung rubbed at his bites again and pondered the look of worry he had seen on the man’s face. He switched his gaze to Enlai. A long serving corporal, he would have seen almost everything that the army could do. Experience was an excellent teacher. However, Enlai too was watching the general’s face and, Haung smiled, rubbing his own arm.

  “Been bitten?” Haung said, a laugh in his voice.

  Enlai turned a surprised look on Haung and followed it with a rueful smile. “Seems so. Little buggers get everywhere. Thought they’d had enough of me over the years.”

  “I do not think we have time to get any ointment to treat the first wounds of the day.” Haung lifted his own armour covered arm to indicate his suffering.

  “No, sir. We will just have to make sure these are the only ones we get.” Enlai bowed to Haung and then went to take up his position on the wall.

  “They are here,” Zhou said. Silence drifted over the wall and the first rays of the sun fell upon the upraised spears of the enemy.

  “Send the word,” the general said.

  Chapter 35

  Shouts rang up and down the length of wall. Zhou did not move as soldiers took up their stations behind the battlements. The first shift, the troops now on the wall, were the most experienced. All sense of fear and anticipation were gone. Each man had his role to play and Zhou was, he knew, in the way. He did not care.

  In the distance, the enemy rode closer. That there were thousands of them was an understatement. At first it was impossible to make out the details or even the shape of the enemy, but it became clearer with every step they advanced. Every soldier rode on horseback and each carried a long spear upright next to them. A bristle of fletching could be seen over their shoulders and by their sides, attached to the saddle, short recurved bows.

  To his enhanced vision the front row of soldiers were black shadows against the red plain. Further back, still out of sight, but visible by the glow they gave off, the magicians rode surrounded by a wall of shadows. Zhou tightened his grip on the short staff, the wood smooth and warm against his skin. These people were the cause of his grief. They had robbed him of his home, his city, as surely as the Duke of Yaart had done. They had destroyed his search for peace, his time of grief, upon the blue mountain. He willed them to come closer, the taste of blood in mouth, salivating. Dawn’s light should have painted the army with a mix of colour, but to Zhou’s senses, everything was made of just three colours. Black, white and red.

  �
�They will want to talk first.” The general moved to the battlements.

  “They are not here to talk, General,” Zhou said. “They are here to conquer. The first battle has already been fought and we managed, at best, a draw. At worst, we were defeated.”

  “Yes, yes, I read the Emperor’s reports on the conflict he had heard about through his spies. Mostly vague ideas and comments. Very little specific detail. I do not think even he was convinced by his own spies’ reports,” the general said as he looked out over the advancing army. “There do seem to be a lot of them.”

  “Spies?” Zhou directed a puzzled look at the general, but the man was still looking out across the land beyond the wall.

  “Enlai?” the officer called and beckoned with raised hand. “Go and see Master Shen again. Impress upon him the importance of his presence here. The negotiations are about to start. Tell him to stop working on that problem. Tell him we need a show of strength at the start. There might still be a chance that we can end this without bloodshed.”

  “Yes, sir,” Enlai said, though Zhou could hear doubt in the corporal’s voice.

  “General,” the Jiin-Wei colonel began, “what defences does the wall have? We know that they have magicians with them.”

  “Enough to deal with this rabble before us.” The general swept his arm in a semi-circle to encompass the Mongol army approaching the wall.

  Zhou looked again at the enemy. They were not advancing like a rabble. Their lines were straight. Everyone moved at the same pace, slow and constant. There were no shouted commands, signals from horns or, as far as Zhou could make out, waved flags. The only noise that proceeded the army were those of the hooves on earth, the creak of leather and the quiet jingle of metal on metal.

  “General, they are not going to talk,” Zhou reiterated.

  “You were a diplomat, what do you know of war,” the general said.

  Ahead, on the ground before the wall, the soldiers on horseback came closer still. Their fur lined caps swept down to cover their necks. The bulk of them wore long brown robes belted at the waist upon which hung a sword or axe. Felt and leather boots poked out beneath the robes and through the stirrups.

  “Look at them,” the general pointed at the first line of cavalry as they approached, “on horseback. Good for battles on the open plains, but useless against a fortified position such as the wall. They can sit out there all day long and we will pick them off at our leisure. Those bows do not look as though they have the range to even reach the top of the wall. A few volleys from our crossbowmen and they will beat a retreat back to their grasslands.”

  The horse soldiers came to halt. Their ranks split, widening the front line and covering much of the valley floor. A shouted command drifted across the land between army and wall. Every Mongol lifted his spear to sky, reversed it and stuck it, point first, into the ground. Now, they took a patch of material from inside their robes and attached it to the upraised poles. The pennants moved slowly in the light breeze.

  “Here we go,” the general said and Zhou saw the man look around. “Where is Master Shen?”

  “I will go and see,” Haung said.

  “No, stay here. A Jinzhou does not run errands. It would not do for the troops to see that. Send another man,” the general ordered. Haung tapped the nearest soldier on the shoulder and Zhou watched the man bow and do as bid.

  Zhou tore his eyes away from the Mongol army when he heard the clank of metal and thump of heavy wood behind him. Groups of Empire soldiers were carrying a strange set of contraptions past the general who accepted their bows as they did so.

  “General?” the Jiin-Wei said.

  “A surprise, Colonel,” the general said.

  “Did you finally perfect them?” and Zhou turned in surprise to see that Xióngmāo was giving the boxes, tubes and coarse clay jars an appraising look as they passed by.

  The General of the Wall remained silent and refused to look her way. There was a cheer from the enemy and the sound of rapid hoof beats. Zhou watched the front line of horse soldiers kick their horses into a gallop straight towards the walls. Everyone had fitted an arrow to bow string and raised it, aiming at the top of the wall.

  “Down,” Gang shouted from his place on the wall.

  Zhou dropped to his knees behind the raised battlement before the word was finished. Xióngmāo ducked down beside him. All along the wall the soldiers did similar.

  There came a clatter of metal on stone, rain drops at the beginning of a storm, heavy and promising of more to come, as Mongol arrows spent their force against the stone wall. Others sailed over the top and cries came from the camp below.

  “Stay down,” Haung said and another flight struck the wall.

  Around him, in the quiet that followed the second volley, the soldiers on the wall began to stand. Zhou found his feet and saw the Mongols riding away, out of range, their bows raised high above their heads. The sound of a thousand cheers greeted their arrival back in the ranks. He shook his head and offered Xióngmāo a hand, helping her up.

  “General,” Enlai called as he waved a soldier away. “Master Shen says he will be with you shortly, but they are at a critical stage of their spells.”

  Haung turned from the Mongol army and held out one of the Mongol arrows to the general. “I do not think they are going to negotiate.”

  “Perhaps not,” the general admitted and pointed to the object in Enlai’s hand. “I see you have one too, Corporal.”

  “Yes, sir,” the corporal bowed and held up the arrow for all to see. “Would you believe they tried to kill me with this? I will have to make sure they get it back at some point.”

  “Sharp end first?” Haung asked.

  “The only way I know, Colonel,” Enlai said.

  “This cannot be the time to make jokes.” Zhou hit the top of the wall with his staff. The crack of the wood on stone echoed, sharp and loud.

  “Zhou, it is the very best time,” Xióngmāo said. “There is nothing else to say. The enemy will attack and we will defend. Some will die, some will live.”

  “My lady,” Enlai bowed, “you are a boost to our morale.”

  “I am realist, Corporal Enlai. I do not hide behind the facts of life as others do.”

  Zhou assumed this comment was aimed at him and it took him a moment to realise that she was not looking towards him, but towards the corporal who gave her cheerful smile and another deep bow.

  “My lady is wise,” the corporal said.

  “Here they come again,” said Gang.

  Chapter 36

  Haung saw the horses begin their race towards the wall once more. It was more of a symbolic attack than anything serious. One line of horse archers and two volleys of arrows would only catch out the unprepared. No, the real battle would begin when all the posturing was done. On both sides. When the siege engines and ladders were brought up, if they had them. Of course they have them, he corrected himself. An army this organised would be ready for this battle. They had ladders at least, he was sure of it.

  The Mongols drew back their strings, ready to loose the arrows. Haung rubbed the necklace under his armour. The leather was too thick to feel the outlines and inscriptions. It did not matter as memory and training took over. He descended into the quiet.

  The horses slowed, hooves hanging too long in the air. Clouds of mist from the animals’ nostrils, swirling in the air, each twist and turn easy to follow. The Mongols released their arrows, already reaching to their quiver for another. It was an ingrained, muscle memory. Haung could see that, in their own way, they had settled into the quiet where the subconscious takes over. One flight was still in the air as they drew another notch to the bow string.

  He saw the arrows reach up towards the wall, predicted their paths. He discounted many. Those that would fly over his head, those that would strike the stone wall. He tracked arrows that would find their mark in the flesh of the soldiers too slow to duck. There was nothing he could do for them. Amongst the flight he picked out
the one threat. He watched it come.

  A sharp, diamond shaped head, not barbed, attached to a thin round shaft by tight wound cord and painted with black resin. The wood flexed and bent as the arrow flew. The fletching, made of coloured and trimmed feathers, caused the missile to spin. It was narrow and, in the early light, hard to see.

  Even now, before his personal arrow had reached the top of the wall, others had flown over or, by the cries, found their mark. His still flew and awareness of the others faded away. Him, the arrow and the archer, ready to loose another.

  He exhaled. Right hand snapping up and catching the arrow just past the sharp tip, friction warming his palm as he clamped down. On the ball of his left foot he pivoted a full circle, robbing the arrow of its momentum, converting it to another trajectory. As his right foot stamped down to reverse the spin he lifted the arrow high into the air, the metal head dragging the tip down as it began to fall. The same hand found the hilt of Jian sword and started to draw it as he moved into the opposite spin. It cleared the scabbard and rose, held flat side vertical to the direction of the spin. The arrow was where he knew it would be. His arm surged with speed and power, the sword blade slapping the blunt nock end and sending it speeding back towards its originator.

  The arrow passed its mate on the way and took the horse archer in the throat. The Mongol pitched off his horse and tumbled to a rest on the ground before the wall. Haung watched him fall and, with an absent slice, cut the other arrow from the air. The rider-less horse carried along the path its owner had intended, galloping back to the line of Mongol troops alongside the others.

  “If they come again,” he said, letting the quiet slip away, “let’s make sure we can hit them back.”

  “Colonel, I did not order you to kill a man,” the general raged. “There was a chance that we could negotiate. We could talk, stall a little and gain some time.”