by G R Matthews
“General,” Haung’s voice was muted by the mist, “soon the men will not be able to see the attackers. We will not be able to loose bolts or push away the ladders.”
“The Fang-Shi are conducting this part of the defence, Tongjun. Patience,” the general said. The mist had risen to the shorter man’s chin. There were still the cries of the wounded and the sounds of crossbows being wound and loosed at the enemy continued. Though, soon, even those sounds vanished into the clouds.
Zhou called to the spirit. His vision was shrouded by the billowing grey of mist and the warmth was being stolen from his skin, replaced by a damp chill. The spirit raced down the thread and suffused his body. It warmed him and when he opened his eyes, through the grey, he could make out the blue sparks and outlines of the soldiers on the wall. The red tide still lapped against the base of the wall. The Mongols had backed away, too scared to ascend into the mists.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed a blue spark flicker, sputter and dim. Zhou took a rapid glance along the wall. Here and there, dotted in amongst the Empire soldiers the same was happening. The temperature continued to drop still further on the wall. No one was moving, not one person taking any action against the increasing cold.
He bent down and touched Xióngmāo on the shoulder. “Something is wrong,” he said.
“Let me see,” she replied and went silent for a moment. “The others report that they have locked down the Mongol magicians’ access to their power, but something is fighting them. If the Fang-Shi do not do something soon they will have to break off.”
“I think it is the Fang-Shi that are doing something wrong?” he whispered.
“What?” Xióngmāo’s voice was stronger, an indication that she was back from the spirit realm.
There was a thump and a clatter from the top of the wall, another and then another. All along the wall the soldiers, the blue glows, were falling. Not dead, because the spark, dim though it was, remained.
“Zhou, stop the Fang-Shi. It is them, they are freezing the wall and the soldiers,” Xióngmāo said as she struggled to her feet, pointing.
In the grey mist where normal vision had failed, the spirit vision made it easy to pick out red from blue. On his section of the wall there were three red glows. Zhou leaped towards them, swinging his staff in a flat arc at their heads. The first initiate went down under the blow. The second, the deepest red glow, stepped back out of range. The third, the other initiate, Zhou guessed, let go whatever magic she was performing and grabbed his arm. Clearly, they too could see through the mist. He swung the staff up and under his attacker’s arm, striking the elbow. There was a sickening crack and a scream from the female Fang-Shi. He kicked her away and turned back to Master Shen.
The sorcerer vanished. One moment, Zhou had been swinging his staff at the head of the traitorous Fang-Shi and then he was striking mere air. He span around seeking out more of the red glows. From this left, another of the Fang-Shi was in the act of turning in his direction. Zhou raced through those soldiers still standing, towards his new enemy. The Fang-Shi thrust a hand in his direction and a bolt of red energy raced towards him. He swayed to the side and let it pass him by. Where or who it struck, he had no idea. All that mattered now was the sorcerer who had tried to kill him.
Zhou jumped. With muscles enhanced by the spirit of the panther he sailed over the heads of the statuesque soldiers and landed directly in front of the Fang-Shi. He drove the end of the short staff into the magician’s throat and left him, choking to death on the cold stone. There were no other Fang-Shi close enough to tackle and so he raced back towards Xióngmāo.
“What can you do?” he asked as he knelt beside her.
“They are trying,” she said. “The spell seems to be centred on Master Shen. If we can kill him then the others will be able to block the flow and the spell will fall apart.”
“The Mongols are doing nothing.” Zhou checked on the red tide that still waited at the bottom of the wall.
“They will not need to do anything. If this carries on we will soon freeze to death,” Xióngmāo said.
“And that is my plan.” A bright red glow, brighter than before, stepped between the frozen soldiers coming to a standstill next to the general. “See how easy it is for a master to destroy an army.”
“Shen,” Zhou growled, “you will die.”
“Shen?” the red glow laughed. “Shen is still here, but he cannot hear you. He has allowed me the use his body.”
There was a stress on the word ‘allowed’ that made it clear Shen had little choice in the matter.
“Fang-Shi magic is still quite primitive even after all these years. But I will add its skills and uses to my own. Just as the Mongol magicians now bow to me, so will the Fang-Shi and, very soon, the Wu too.”
“I do not think so,” Xióngmāo came to stand beside Zhou.
“Little Panda,” the red magician said and Xióngmāo gasped. “It has been a long time. I am sad it has to end this way.”
The figure moved its arms in a complicated gesture and pointed at Xióngmāo. A bolt of force raced towards her. Strands of red, black, violet and white, each as wide as a man’s wrist, entwined, twisted and coruscated along the bolt. Without thought, Zhou stepped in its path and raised his staff.
“Zhou,” her scream was long and drawn out.
The bolt struck the staff. There was a great flash and it was flung from his hands. The individual strands of the bolt writhed around his body and he stumbled. They dug through his armour and into his skin. The pain was intense. A thousand hot needles being pushed slowly into his skin, into his brain. Zhou staggered backwards, hands curling into claws. Throughout his body the spirit fought back, snapping and biting at the snakes of power that were trying to invade his being. But it was giving ground, edging back towards the thread that bound it to the spirit realm. Zhou collapsed to the floor, curling into a foetal position.
“I will not allow this.” A voice he knew spoke to him, and in his mind a new energy pulsed down the thread. A trickle at first, then a flood of green flowed around the bright blue. The many hued snakes halted their advance towards the thread of blue binding him to the spirit realms. Beneath the serpents a green carpet formed and they sank into it. The blue spirit raced across the safe ground and tore into the remaining snakes.
Zhou felt the pain ebb away and he struggled to his feet. The staff lay off to the right. Too far to reach. Shen, at least the bright red outline of the man, had not moved from the spot and Xióngmāo was picking herself up from the floor. He still hurt, but there was enough anger to take the pain away. There was rage, the need to protect those he cared about.
“Impressive, little Wu,” Shen’s voice said. “You will be an interesting study.”
“Never again,” Zhou roared and jumped forward, fingernails extending into claws, teeth becoming fangs.
A second bolt caught him mid-leap. This one comprised of a dark so deep it was more the absence of colour than true black. It lifted him, threw him, backwards, over the wall.
Zhou fell, the top of the wall disappearing into the distance.
Chapter 42
His teeth chattered. He was so cold. Colder than any winter he had experienced. The numbness was receding, pain replaced it. He tried not to cry out. Failed.
“You will be fine,” a woman’s voice said from the grey mist.
“W...w... what h... happened?” Haung said.
“The Fang-Shi betrayed us,” she said. “It was worse here, close to Master Shen. The soldiers are dealing with the rest.”
“Shen?” The pain was lessening.
“Is dead,” the woman said.
The veil of grey mist dissolved and he could see again. Xióngmāo leaned over him, watching him. All around, others were stirring, suffering through their own version of his reawakening. Curses flew.
“The general,” he asked.
“I am sorry,” Xióngmāo said. “He was old. The cold took too much out of him. There was noth
ing I could do. He is dead.”
Haung sat up and looked around. The general was lying on the stone rampart, his eyes were closed and he looked peaceful. Master Shen did not. His chest and throat were bloody mess. A series of parallel gashes cut through his robe and deep into the flesh. Death had likely been painful, but mercifully quick.
“Mongols?”
“Have pulled back for now,” Xióngmāo looked away. “They have their prize for the day.”
“What?” Haung asked.
“They have taken Zhou.” She turned back to him and he could see the tears in her eyes.
“Well, Haung,” Gang’s grumble came through last of the mists, “looks like you got another promotion.”
Haung staggered over to the wall to see the last of the Mongols returning to their formations. The horde was massive. So many, it was impossible to count. Despite all their losses they looked undiminished. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Enlai’s face, still a little pale, smiling at him.
“Your orders, General?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
G R Matthews began reading in the cot. His mother, at her wits end with the constant noise and unceasing activity, would plop him down on the soft mattress with an encyclopaedia full of pictures then quietly slip from the room. His father, ever the pragmatist, declared, that they should, "throw the noisy bugger out of the window." Happily, this event never came to pass (or if it did, he bounced well). Growing up, he spent Sunday afternoons on the sofa watching westerns and Bond movies with the self-same parent who had once wished to defenestrate him. When not watching the six-gun heroes or spies being out-acted by their own eyebrows, he devoured books like a hungry wolf in the dead of winter. Beginning with Patrick Moore and Arthur C Clarke he soon moved on to Isaac Asimov. However, one wet afternoon in a book shop in his home town, not far from the standing stones of Avebury, he came across a book by David Eddings - and soon Sci-Fi gave way to Fantasy. Many years later, G R Matthews finally realised a dream and published his own fantasy novel, The Stone Road, in the hopes that other hungry wolves out there would find a hearty meal. You can follow him on twitter @G_R_Matthews or visit his website at www.grmatthews.com
AFTERWORD
There it is, Book 2 of the series done and in your hands, through your eyes and into your brain and heart. I hope that you enjoyed it. I hope that you buy the next one too. And now my Oscar’s acceptance speech of thanks (I promise not to cry).
Thanks for this one go to my family, immediate and extended, for their patience, irritation and their un-ending ability to put up with me. I wouldn’t be who am I, or do what I do, without their help, assistance and tolerance.
Thanks also to Sarah Chorn, for letting me post a review on her website; Bookworm Blues (http://www.bookwormblues.net) and for letting me have some longer articles posted on her exceptional column; Special Needs in Strange worlds on www.SFsignal.com, (http://bit.ly/1t1tpM6 ). Thanks to Bob Milne for interviewing me for his wonderful website (http://beauty-in-ruins.blogspot.co.uk).
I’d like to thank Brian Collins for the support, encouragement, feedback and for beta-reading the book!
Thanks wing their way across the sea to T O Munro (http://tomunro.blogspot.co.uk/), as they did last time, for the encouragement and the chance to talk about writing, also, for checking and suggesting improvements. Alongside those, thanks should go also to Mark Lawrence (http://www.marklawrence.buzz/) for firstly, referring to me as an author (you have no idea how much those simple words meant) and secondly, for suggesting improvements to the cover of this book. However, it is worth noting that this book is not about coffee.
The cover (both paperback and Kindle versions) were prepared in timely fashion and without any moaning at my constant desire for changes by James over at HumbleNations (http://www.goonwrite.com/ ). He also did the cover for The Stone Road (book 1) and the last book in the series, The Red Plains (book 3).
Thank you to A F Matthews for being long suffering, calm, wise and supportive.
Thanks, of course, to Marc Aplin and Jennie Ivins for allowing me to waffle on about books, writing and other stuff at http://fantasy-faction.com/. And thank you for reading it – if you do. Just in case you do not, go there now. It is a fantastic website full of fantasy related information and news!