The Stone Road

by G R Matthews

  The

  Stone Road

  G R Matthews

  Copyright © 2013 G R Matthews

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 1493741713

  ISBN-13: 978-1493741717

  For Mum and Dad

  You taught me right from wrong and how to be a good person. All my successes are down to you… the muck-ups are mine alone!

  Prologue

  Candles lit the vast cavern, small stars in the darkness. Stalactites and stalagmites met in occasional pillars, an illusion of support for the high ceiling. Chanted words meandered through the rising and falling needles. Murmuring echoes of confusion bounced from the cool, smooth walls and skipped across the still lake in the far corner.

  In the centre of the cavern a large circle had been drawn in red and surrounded by scribbled symbols. Any eye trying to follow their pattern would soon admit defeat and be lost in the convoluted twists and turns.

  Within the circle a large triangle, also drawn in red, pierced the circumference and at each sharp angle stood a figure in long dark robes. Before each, a long wide table with a pile of virgin white paper placed to be reached without effort. To the right of the paper a decorated clay bowl full of the red liquid that had drawn the circle and symbols. In their hands, a brush made from a newborn’s hair and an ivory handle.

  At an unspoken signal the three lifted a sheet of paper, dipped their brush in the liquid and with practised flicks and swoops hand drew a symbol on the page. They threw the paper into the air and started to change, each voice reciting a different phrase, to a different rhythm. The paper rose and the symbols began to smoulder, wisps of grey smoke drifting towards the cavern’s soot-stained roof. Then the paper burst into flames, consuming the inked symbols. Cinders fell in a black snow to lie within the triangle.

  From one of the small tunnels that led to and from the cavern, a line of twelve naked men entered to take up position on the perimeter of the circle. Now, the writing, drawing and chanting took on an urgent pace, each robed man throwing paper into the air at shorter and shorter intervals. Three more, and then three more pieces of paper exploded into starbursts.

  The twelve men stepped into the circle between the circumference and the triangle, four in each defined section. The robed figures paused then reached into their robes and drew forth a long curved dagger. Exposing their left forearm they made a surgical slice letting the blood flow along their arms and drip into the bowl. Stirring the blood infused liquid with the tip of the knife they made similar slices in the arms of the naked men, catching the new blood in the bowl. The naked men did not flinch or cry out. Their eyes were glazed and fixed on the centre of the circle.

  When each man had been cut and the blood collected, the robed men returned to their tables. On four pieces of paper, they made marks and symbols and resumed their chanting. This time, as the paper rose and smouldered it did not erupt into fire but, upon a unified shout from the robed figures, sped across the air to plaster itself on the face of each man. The symbols continued to burn and the air was filled with the smell of cooking meat. The naked men made no sound.

  The robed figures took the final piece of paper from the piles on their tables and soaked it in the bowl of mixed blood. Moulding it into a soggy ball they raised it above their heads and began chanting, the same phrase over and over again. Sheens of sweat coated their faces and their breaths became ragged as they maintained the rhythm of the chant.

  For an age it continued and then, with a final grunt of effort, the blood dripping balls of paper were transformed into flaming spheres. Flickers of red, yellow, blue and white danced across the surface of each, sparks of dark fire dripped from the eldritch balls. Raising dagger-sliced arms the figures set the spheres in motion and they dipped, skidded towards the three groups of naked sacrifices.

  There was a blinding flash of light and an explosion of noise. Stone creaked, needles toppled and pillars cracked. The robed men fell to their knees. The sacrifices were outlined in red fire, their forms rolling, coiling, and merging into one. Joints popped, bones cracked, tendons snapped, faces melted, and flesh dripped to puddle on the floor. Only now, and very briefly, were there screams of pain from the twelve. The fiery puddles of flesh on the floor bubbled and hissed.

  From those puddles, new shapes rose.

  Part 1

  CHAPTER 1

  Rain fell like tiny hammers on the tiled roof of the school. Inside, the students, who knelt in respectful silence, were trying hard to listen to their tutor.

  “It is not the work of a bureaucrat or diplomat to make policy, just ensure it is followed. This is the lesson that you must learn and absorb; it must become a part of everything that you do. There will be bitter pills to swallow along the way. You may not agree with the policy...” and he paused to meet the eyes of as many students as he could. “...but it is not your place to agree or disagree. You must keep silent on the matter when engaged upon a negotiation. Your words, your heart, everything, must reflect utter confidence in the policy or the orders you have been given.”

  The tutor rapped his short oak staff on the floor and began to pace back and forth in front of the students. The hem of his long dark blue robe whispered over the woven mat floor. His slippers were soundless amongst the patter of rain.

  “Every action you take or move you make, every look or glance will be read by someone. They will make something of it. They will judge you by it. Doubts of self or others, cannot be allowed during these stages. That is why policy and orders are the hard rock at your centre.” He stopped at one end of his paced route. “Are there any questions so far?”

  “Tutor Zhou,” one of the students in the third row raised his hand, “what if you have no orders? What if the negotiation is sudden?”

  “Feng, isn’t it?” The student nodded. “Feng, there are never sudden negotiations and you are never without orders. You know the tenets of Wubei Province?

  “Yes, Tutor.”

  “Then recite them for us?”

  “We are strong, stronger than others. We are wise, wiser than others. We are brave, braver than others. We are Wubei, the rightful heirs of the heavens.”

  “Does this help you to see that you are never without orders?” Zhou stared at Feng. “We are Wubei, the rightful heirs of heaven. We are wise and brave. We are strong. Do you understand what this means? It means we are right. It means others must recognise this or face the consequences. Our orders come from heaven itself. Through the duke who sets our broad policies, to the Administrators who enact the policy, to your own superiors who give you orders. You are never sent into the field without orders, without an understanding of your position in the grander scheme. To graduate from this course you must recognise these things, they must be a part and the whole of you. If you cannot, Feng, you will fail.”

  “Yes, Tutor Zhou.” Feng bowed his head in respect.

  “It is true also, Novice Feng, that negotiations, situations, can change without warning. You must be ready to change and be aware when things are changing. For instance, even now, outside the door is something that will change today's lesson. You must learn to listen between the rain drops. A change, when it comes, will step lightly before it kicks like thunder. Hear the light steps and be ready for the thunder. Class dismissed.”

  The thirty novices stood, bowed as one and then they filed, on bare feet, through the door. Behind Zhou another door slid open.

  “Kicks like thunder, Zhou?” the newcomer said. “When did poetry enter your heart?”

  Zhou smiled and small creases appeared around his eyes, “The day that I met your daughter and she agreed to marry me, Honoured Father.”

  “Don’t give me that ‘Honoured Father’ routine, Zhou. I know what you say about me behind my
back. Luckily, it is no worse than many others say to my face. You just have more manners.” Father was taller, had short grey hair to Zhou’s long black and was clean shaven where his son-in-law sported a neatly trimmed beard. “I am aware that we arranged your marriage before you were five years old but you have changed little in the years since.”

  “If a loved son cannot say these things, Father, then who can.” Zhou bowed deeply to his Father-in-law.

  “True. Yet I would wish that no-one said them, especially to my face.” Father’s face took on a smile of its own, “Even if I do deserve them.”

  “You will take tea with me?” Zhou asked and clapped his hands three times in quick succession. Honoured Father always took tea when he came to visit.

  Servants rushed in to set up a small table, placing a hot kettle of tea and two porcelain cups upon it. Zhou and Father sat on the cushions the servants provided. For a minute they sat in silence, then at an unspoken signal Zhou poured two small cups of green tea. Father tapped the table twice with two bent fingers.

  “What can I do for you today, Father?” Zhou cupped the tea in his hands, letting the warmth soak into the flesh.

  “Today it is what I have done for you.” Father took a small sip of the tea whilst Zhou waited. “You are aware that the Duke of Yaart has proposed a meeting to discuss a peace treaty?”

  “I am, Father.” Zhou put his cup down on the table and folded his hands in his lap to hide the small tremors that had begun. “This will be the fourth such proposal since the war began thirty years ago. The previous three have all been unsuccessful. Indeed, the bureaucrats and diplomats assigned to the second meeting returned to us in coffins.”

  “A dark day,” Father said. “Yet there is reason to believe, amongst the duke’s advisors, that this proposal will build upon the small successes of the third proposal. I have seen the documents sent and some of Yaart’s demands and concessions. There is much to be commended within it, if still lots to discuss.”

  “Father, we can never be conquered. This very city is built up from the rocks of the mountain. There is no way for Yaart to invade. Every battle has been fought on the plains between our two cities. Small villages change sides faster than the seasons. For every advance we make in one season, we fall back in the next.” Zhou’s voice was matter of fact.

  “High treason to speak of that in some places.” Zhou bowed in acknowledgement. “However, what you say is mostly true. We are at stalemate in a game of Xiangqi chess and the rules of drawing are not being applied.”

  “But we are Wubei, we will not be beaten,” echoing his earlier lecture.

  “Indeed, but we will not win either. Not this way.” Father took a longer drink of the tea and sighed. “It is not force of arms or even the new black powder that will win this war. It is words and paper, ink and agreement, discourse and discussion. This is what prompts my visit to you.”

  Zhou took the cup in both hands, raised the still warm liquid to his mouth and drank. The slightly bitter tea slipped comfortingly down his throat and into his belly.

  “Like the Xiangqi boards, the Advisors have been meeting the duke within the castle and deciding who their chosen warriors will be for this meeting. I called in a few of the favours owed to me and pushed your name forward for consideration. Teaching, whilst an honourable use of your skills, is not enough for you or for my daughter. I know that you are ambitious for more.”

  Zhou bowed once more, “Am I to attend the meeting?”

  “I have secured for you the position of Junior Diplomat, assistant to the Senior Diplomat, the Venerable Hsin. It is a great honour.”

  “Honourable Father, my thanks to you and the Venerable Hsin. I will not let either of you down.”

  “I do not expect you to. My daughter speaks of you with nothing but pride and love. Her judgement I have always found to be reliable and true. You are to meet Hsin tomorrow morning. A carriage will arrive at your house at sunrise to carry you to him. Be ready and follow your orders, Zhou. Our family name depends on your actions.”

  “My wife is, indeed, a wise woman. No doubt, she will move in with you whilst I am away. It would not be seemly for her to be on her own. Also, Bei would enjoy spending time with his grandfather. Please do not spoil him too much.” Zhou raised the last of his tea to his forehead and bowed deeply to his father-in-law.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Again!”

  Haung stepped back into first guard position. Sword held in right hand, pointing from waist height towards the sun. Opposite, his opponent took up the same stance. Then Haung skipped forward, sword lunging towards the belly of the other soldier. It was knocked aside with a downward sweep and Haung retreated.

  “Better. Again!” The instructor barked.

  Time and time again, Haung and his opponent carried out the same lunge and parry drill. The weather was hot and Haung could feel the spring sun burning his bare scalp. Eventually, the order to stop and rest was given.

  Haung slid the sword into its scabbard and put this on a clean white sheet. His aching legs carried him across the yard, edging past soldiers still engaged on their own drills, to the water barrel situated in the far corner. He dipped the drinking bowl into the barrel. The water was warm but welcome. He drank some more then poured the rest over his head, adding more moisture to the sweat that dripped down his face and plastered the shirt to his skin.

  “Haung!” He returned to his sword and instructor. He bowed low, “Gather up your stuff and report to Commander Weyl at once.”

  Haung gave his instructor a startled look.

  “Don’t just stand there gaping, boy. You’ve been given an order. Get a move on.” The instructor’s voice was harsh but then softened, “and for the sake of Jade Heaven don’t embarrass me when you get there.”

  Haung nodded, folded the white cloth around his sword and at the edge of the practice area turned to bow once more.

  Inside the castle, the heat abated though humidity increased. Haung dodged his way through the crowds of people who were moving back and forth, going about their own important business. One soldier amongst them was merely an annoyance, a fly to be swatted.

  Commander Weyl’s office was in the Advisors’ section of the castle. For all that the Commander was a soldier, he was also a renowned scholar and gifted historian. Weyl was not one to be kept waiting. Haung, ducking past one scroll laden scholar, collided with and knocked over a servant girl. Her clay jar tumbled from her hands and smashed on the stone floor.

  “Sorry,” Haung called back as he moved on.

  “You will be, Haung.” The girl’s voice followed him down the corridor.

  He slowed as he approached the Advisors’ section of the castle and, regaining his breath, made sure his tunic was properly belted. The two guards who stood outside the entrance stopped him.

  “Where are you off to young man?” the first asked.

  “I’m Trainee Haung. I have orders from my instructor to see Commander Weyl.” Haung waved the white swaddled sword as evidence of his status.

  “We’ll check. But first you’ll need to hand over that sword. No one goes into the Advisors armed,” said the second.

  “But we’re told never to give up our swords. They are our responsibility,” Haung answered.

  “And we’ll look after it for you. Tell you what,” the guard shared a smile with his colleague, “you can take the cloth in with you and leave the sword with us. That’s half an’ half, a good deal in my books.”

  Haung squinted at both guards trying to puzzle out what to do and then, behind the guards, he spied another man marching quickly towards the gate.

  “Guards, has Trainee Haung shown up yet? We sent for him ages ago and the Commander is waiting.”

  “He’s here, Cai. I'm just getting his sword off him,” said the first guard.

  Cai looked Haung up and down and then spoke, “Hand your sword over, Trainee, we haven’t got time to hang around.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.<
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  Haung thrust his bundled sword into the waiting hands of the guards and ran to catch up. Cai didn’t speak to him again on the walk through the castle corridors. Light entered through narrow windows as they passed door after door until they reached the large, iron studded door at the very end. Haung watched as Cai rapped on the door then, without hearing or seeing any response, opened the door wide and gestured that Haung should go first.

  The room beyond was empty save for a desk stacked high with piles of paper, a chair and, behind these, a spiral stair case. Cai gave the muddled desk a disapproving look, “Go up the stairs, to the top. Knock on the door and wait to be invited in. Speak when spoken to, do as asked and answer truthfully.”

  Haung, now on his own, did as asked and began to climb the stairs. There were no exits leading off of the stair case as it spiralled upwards and it took much longer than he had expected to reach the promised door at the top. He knocked twice and, after waiting, was about to knock again when it opened. A short man with thinning hair and wire framed glasses balanced on his small nose beckoned him in. Haung bowed before crossing the threshold into the richly decorated room. The room was circular and there were three other doors leading off from it. In the middle of the room, a square table with seven chairs arranged around it. On the table Haung recognised a map depicting the province of Yaart and the surrounding lands. Just like the tactics classes that all trainee soldiers had to attend, there were, dotted around the map, small groups of figurines, each a different colour to represent the General in charge. There were other figurines, all coloured red, denoting the location of enemy troops and some were augmented with a small label giving further details or indicating which report to reference for information. Partly obscuring the corner of the map was a silver tray on which lay a selection of fruit, a slab of cheese and some small slices of bread.