The Blue Mountain (The Forbidden List Book 2)

by G R Matthews

  “Time, General? Time for what? The wall has stood for centuries and has been garrisoned for almost as long. You said it yourself. It is time for the wall to do its job.” Haung sheathed his sword, sliding it into place with a solid click.

  The general stood stock still. Beads of sweat covered his face and it looked as though he was having trouble breathing. His head twitched. A glance over his shoulder towards the tower then back to Haung and the group. Haung waited for his senior officer to speak.

  “Colonel,” the general finally said, “bring up the crossbowmen. If they ride again, I want them full of bolts before they can loose a single arrow at the wall.”

  Haung smiled in return. “Yes, sir.”

  “Finally,” Gang grumbled.

  “Patience is as much a weapon as your hammer,” Liu said. “One you’ve never used, I would suggest.”

  “You cannot hit someone with patience,” the bull-necked fighter spat.

  “The point is that sometimes you don’t need to,” Liu said. “Here they come again.”

  “Crossbows,” Haung shouted and the order was repeated along the wall. It was accompanied by the rapid tramp of feet and the creaking of wood as crossbow arms were pulled back and bolts put in place. “Stand ready.”

  The Mongol horse archers raced towards the wall and, as before, drew arrows to their bows.

  “Loose,” Haung’s shout was followed by a staccato clack of crossbows being released. “Second rank, step up.”

  The short bolts flew towards the Mongols. Like any army, any trained body of men, there were some who were good and accurate and some who were not. The Empire army relied on numbers to combat the inaccuracies. In this instance, it worked as intended.

  Many bolts missed, succeeding only in peppering the ground with short sticks and small white feathers. Others struck true. The Mongols, to a man, were thrown from their horses before they could loose a single arrow. They did not have time to scream. The horses, however, did. They squealed in agony. They fell to the ground, tumbling, rolling and crushing their riders. A few still ran on, but not a single horse did so uninjured. Those beasts that could, limped back to the lines, acting on training and instinct. The rest, the horses that could no longer stand, thrashed about on the grass before the wall.

  “Please,” Xióngmāo said, “kill them.”

  Haung looked down at the woman and saw the tears in her eyes. He nodded.

  “Marksman,” Haung called once more. “Loose when ready.”

  There was quiet for a few seconds then the sound of one crossbow releasing its bolt, then another and another. The squeals stopped. Haung turned his gaze to the new front rank of the Mongol army. They had not moved, but waited for the injured horses to return to them. When they did, a warrior would dismount his own horse, grip the injured beast by the head and twist its neck to bring it to the ground. Once the horse was in position, the Mongol drew a dagger across the horse’s throat. The stricken beasts kicked the ground and then lay still.

  “Do you think they’ll send more?” Liu asked.

  “No, next time they’ll all come,” Gang answered and Haung noticed the general nodding his agreement.

  “It will take them a little time to organise,” the general said. “Enlai ask all the JunFu to report to the tower for orders. Have them leave instructions for all the men to be fed. It is going to be a long day. Colonel, Are you coming?”

  “General?” Haung asked, surprised.

  “You are the rank of Jinzhou which, technically, makes you the third highest ranked soldier in this army. Only my Tongjun is of higher rank and his role will be mostly to organise the shifts and see men sent to the wall when required. Which makes, though I am sure the Emperor could not have intended this, you second in command on the wall. You best hear the plans and know what to do.”

  “Yes, sir,” Haung said in an even tone though his heartbeat quickened and his stomach fluttered.

  “We are coming too,” the Wubei man said.

  The general looked at the two Wu and sighed, “Of course.”

  * * *

  “There is not much to speak of,” the General of the Wall began. “We have trained a long time for this and, now it is here, I expect you all to fulfil your roles with honour.”

  Haung stood at the map table and listened. The map table was exactly that, a table with maps inlaid in the wood. The first map, around the rim, showed the whole length of the wall from the coast in the east to the impassable mountains in the west that marked the furthest extent of the Empire. The second map, much larger and taking up the centre panel of the table, detailed the wall section directly outside the tower. He knew there were similar tables in every tower, each one commanded by a JunFu.

  Small clay figurines had been placed on the map to indicate the positions of Empire soldiers and enemy troops. When a new report was rushed in by the administrators, all of whom now wore a weapon on their belt and sported a leather tunic over their robes, a figurine would be moved.

  “They are setting up camp,” said one of the JunFu, pointing at a concentration of figurines amongst the enemy and waving a report he had just been handed.

  “Perhaps they will spend the day preparing,” said a second officer.

  “And wearing us down with anticipation?” the general said. “No, if that had been their plan they would not have sent those archers against the wall.”

  “Perhaps, that is a custom?” Master Shen said from his seat at the table. He was the only one sitting down and, to Haung’s eyes, looked exhausted.

  “It is,” Xióngmāo said. “Warriors wanting to prove themselves men and claim a wife can do so in battle. Amongst the tribes it is usual for the unmarried men to challenge each other before battle begins.”

  “You mean they were children?” the Wubei diplomat said and a stricken look passed across his face.

  “Thirteen to sixteen would be my guess. Men grow up quickly on the steppes. Life is difficult and short,” Xióngmāo answered.

  “They were the inexperienced soldiers,” Haung leant forward on the table. “The next attack will be from the seasoned and practised warriors?”

  “They will not wait long. It is not the Mongol way. Attack, strike and pull back is their normal strategy,” she said.

  “You seem to know a lot about them,” Master Shen said with a sneer on his lips.

  “I told you, I lived amongst them for a time,” she explained.

  “Perhaps you are a spy?” Shen said.

  Haung stood still, waiting to see who would react to the accusation. The only person who moved was Corporal Enlai, who had entered moments ago. He took two steps and placed himself a little behind and to the side the magician. Haung stared at the corporal, trying to catch his gaze, but the man was looking elsewhere. He followed Enlai’s eyes and saw that he was watching Xióngmāo. No one else in the room seemed to have noticed anything but the insult the magician had delivered.

  They all started to speak at once, questioning each other and giving voice to their concerns. Zhou was the loudest, leaning over the table and pointing a threatening finger at the sorcerer. Haung could not move, could not drag his gaze away from the three way stand-off around the table. Shen’s eyes were marble hard and focused purely on Xióngmāo. Her eyes reflected the magician’s gaze, but where his expressed barely contained rage, hers were a calm sea.

  Enlai’s hand had reached across his waist towards the dagger sheathed there. Haung wanted to speak, wanted to raise a hand, to stop Enlai from drawing that knife, to find out why he was willing to kill for the lady. Once the dagger cleared its sheaf, there would be no hope. A bared blade in the tower room was a death sentence for any soldier.

  This Shen was not the magician he had been trained by. That man had been calm and in control. He had been wise, patient and diligent. Ever since the Wu had shown up, he had changed. Another concern to add to Haung’s growing list. There was also the matter of the man’s magic, which Haung knew to be potent. The training he had re
ceived from Shen had focused around defence and attack. If Enlai drew that blade and stabbed the magician the most likely outcome was Enlai’s death. Shen would not do anything until his spells of protection went off.

  The arguments around the three still raged on. Haung forced his body to move. As he did, he noticed Xióngmāo tilt her head slightly and Enlai stepped back, away from the magician. The moment passed.

  “Shen,” Xióngmāo spoke into a moment of calm, a fragment of time when everyone was taking a new breath, “that was beneath you.”

  “General, can we expect reinforcements from the Emperor or the other towers?” Haung asked, more to deflect any further arguments than anything else.

  “Haung, we have been over this already. The answer remains no,” the general said. “Now would seem a good opportunity to return to your men and check on preparations. If they have not attacked before midday we will rotate the shifts and give the men on the wall a chance to eat.”

  “General, it would be good to know that, should we need it, we can call on aid from the towers or the Emperor,” Haung asked again.

  The general frowned and shared a quick glance with Shen who shook his head. “Colonel, we are fully capable of dealing with this threat. You have your orders. Dismissed.”

  Chapter 37

  “Here they come,” the shout carried from the tower lookout down to Zhou on the wall.

  “There is still time, go to the tower,” Zhou said to Xióngmāo and, as he had expected, she shook her head. “They’ll use archers to keep our heads down and then send in the siege engines.”

  “Ladders,” Xióngmāo said.

  “Sorry?”

  “Ladders. Transporting siege engines across the steppes is too slow for their liking. Also, the supply of wood is limited in many areas,” she explained. “They prefer ladders. At least, when they pillaged the Empire that is what they used.”

  Zhou looked at her and, not for the first time, remembered she had lived many more lifetimes than he had.

  “You may want to duck,” she smiled at him as the first arrows, loosed too soon by the over eager amongst the attackers, hit the wall below.

  Zhou hunkered down by the parapet next to her. Gang and Liu did the same a few crenels away. The general stayed standing as did Haung, but they were covered by the shields of soldiers tasked to keep them safe.

  “I hate this bit,” Gang shouted above the patter of arrows hitting the wall.

  Zhou kept his head down and fought back the memories of the attack on Wubei. He gripped the smooth warm wood of the staff and tried to take deep breaths. It was not the fear he battled but anger and rage. The blue thread pulsed, calling, inviting him to battle. On its very edge, the blue had taken on a greenish hue.

  “Remain calm,” Xióngmāo said and put her hand over his. “Remember to call the spirit only when you need it. Use it and control it, control yourself.”

  He looked into her dark eyes and saw little blue flecks of spirit. She had already called her spirit, but it was different to his. More thoughtful, slower, wise and grounded. His spirit enjoyed the hunt, lived for it, and revelled in it. He breathed in, as deep and slow as he could.

  “Crossbows,” the general ordered. There was a shockwave of noise when the bows released their bolts, followed by the soggy thump of metal striking flesh. A great sigh flowed over the wall as the first rank of Mongol soldiers collapsed to the ground and were trampled by those who followed. “Second rank.”

  “The Fang-Shi?” Haung’s voice shouted over the sounds of battle.

  “Not yet. Not on the first attack,” the general shouted back. “JunFu Gongliang, let us see if we can distract them a bit.”

  “Yes, sir,” shouted Gongliang. He was dressed in full armour with the addition of a gauze strip covering the lower half of his face. Zhou watched him wave a group of men, all dressed in the same armour and gauze, forward. Each carried a ball, about the size of two fists held together, by a short chain. On one side of the ball was a long piece of string.

  “I hope they have finally got these to work,” Xióngmāo said.

  “What are they?” Zhou asked as the men offered up the string to Gongliang.

  “Yān Qiú,” she said. “Watch.”

  The JunFu took a small ember and blew on it, bringing it back to life. On this ember the soldiers lit the string which sputtered as it burnt. Little sparks flew from the wick as it burnt down towards the ball. After each was alight, the soldiers began twirling the balls around by the chains. Faster and faster, until there was a continuous circle of sparks. They stepped forward and sent the glowing, spinning orbs out and over the wall. One of the soldiers stumbled back from his throw, an arrow through his arm.

  The Yān Qiú descended into the midst of the advancing Mongols. There was no immediate effect and the enemy advanced closer to the wall. Then came four earth shattering claps of thunder and two more a moment later. Mongol soldiers were tossed into the air by the explosions. The advance, on that small section of land before the wall, wavered and faltered. Smoke began to drift between the enemy ranks, merging into in clouds. Within those thin veils of mist the Mongol soldiers began to drop their weapons, grasp their throats, tear at their eyes, choke, fall and die.

  “Crossbows,” the general ordered and another wave of bolts flew from the wall. “Gongliang, go and see what your men can do along the wall.”

  The JunFu bowed and, gesturing for his men to follow, headed off.

  * * *

  The top of the ladder hit the wall and the soldier next to Zhou pushed it away with the butt of his spear. He had to lean out over the wall to tip it backwards. The Mongols who had started to climb fell to the ground, but the drop was not high. Zhou could do nothing but watch as a soldier was struck in the chest by a Mongol arrow and pitch forward over the wall. The man’s boots scraped the wall as he fell.

  “Push to the side,” Haung was shouting. “To the side.”

  More ladders hit the wall in rapid succession. Zhou moved out from behind the parapet, grabbed the nearest ladder and pushed. It was surprisingly easy. A quick thrust and it fell away to the left. He ducked back into cover before an arrow could find him.

  “Keep pushing,” the general shouted to the troops. “If the best they have got are ladders we do not have much to worry about.”

  “They do have a lot of ladders though,” Zhou muttered.

  More arrows arced over the wall and fell into the camp beyond. Empire soldiers ducked behind the stonework and then returned to their pushing. No matter how many ladders they pushed, more were raised and more Empire soldiers fell, their armour pierced by Mongol arrows. The enemy had not yet reached the top of a ladder, but Zhou could see they were getting closer.

  “Gongliang,” the general called. “A few more Yān Qiú, if you please. Closer to the wall this time. Let us see if we can take out a few ladders as well.”

  “Of course, General,” and the small team repeated the lighting procedure behind their large portable wooden wall. This time, instead of holding the fizzling orbs by their chains, the men held them as they would a child’s ball. Rather than spinning them around, they crept up to the parapet and with a gentle toss pitched them over the wall. Zhou felt the explosions rumble through the wall before he heard them.

  “As before, Gongliang, do the same in the other sections of the wall. We need to give them pause,” the general said.

  “Of course, General. However, we should consider rationing the use of the Yān Qiú. I have a team making more in the camp below but we do not have a large supply,” the officer replied.

  “That is not the news I wished to hear,” the general said. “What of the other weapons?”

  “Some are still experimental, General.”

  “I don’t care, JunFu Gongliang, I want them ready as soon as possible,” the general’s voice cracked with command.

  “Of course.” Gongliang bowed and then ordered his men to pick up the shield and follow him along the wall.

  T
here was a brief lull in the fighting below the wall before more ladders rose into view. Zhou watched the top of the closest ladder twitch and wobble with the weight of the climbers below. Always before, the six or seven times the ladders had gone up, the Mongols had stopped loosing arrows as their troops neared the top. This time there was no such sparing of their own soldiers and, as arrows clattered into the wall, a fur lined helmet peeked over the low stones between the parapets.

  Zhou swung his staff even as the Empire soldier opposite stabbed with his sword. The force of the impact ran up his arm and the Mongol soldier pitched backwards off the ladder. There was no respite as another face appeared. This one was ready and blocked Zhou’s swing with an upraised shield. Sadly, for him, it left him open to the Empire soldier’s sword which smashed into his top lip and skidded off the bone, slicing open the cheek. The Mongol fell.

  “They are gaining a foothold,” came a shout from further along the wall, though Zhou could not see who had shouted. It was accompanied by a cessation in the arrows. A sure sign, he thought, that the call was the truth. In front of him, a wave of Mongols poured over the walls.

  The blue thread pulsed and he grabbed hold. The spirit flooded his body. Tired, aching muscles regained their vigour. The smell of blood, meat and death wetted his tongue. The cries of soldiers were clear in his ears.

  “Finally,” he growled and, taking the staff in both hands, he plunged into the battle. The first Mongol he came up against swung a curved sword at his head. A downwards stroke that Zhou turned aside with his staff. He let the Mongol stagger forwards, off balance, and drove the butt end of the wooden weapon into his face. The soldier collapsed and Zhou leaped the falling body to tackle the next.

  Either side, Empire soldiers were falling back. In the vision of the spirit, the combatants radiated light from the centre of their torso. The Mongols were easy to differentiate. They glowed a dirty, dull purple, not the pure crystal blue of the Empire men. Every man glowed to a degree, some more, some less. The purple glow vanished from the soldier whom he had killed. When an Empire man fell, his glow faded too.