The Stone Road

by G R Matthews

  “Well, if you’re sure. There’s an inn not far from here that’s pretty good and not too pricey. Want me to take you?”

  “Is it going to cost me more?” Zhou asked.

  “Well, you could buy me some food. We’ve been walking a long time. Promise you, I’ll take you to the house straight after. In that district the streets are pretty safe at night and it’s not too far,” the boy said and Zhou nodded his agreement.

  # # #

  By the time they had finished their dinner the city was dark. The boy guided him down streets well lit by lanterns and though it was quieter now there were still a number of people going about their business. He passed patrols of soldiers as he followed the boy towards the address the last person in the chain had given them.

  “Lot of soldiers about,” Zhou said.

  “Keeps the road safe,” the boy responded. “Least they do for the rich people in the rich parts of town. Other areas, you won’t see a guard for days unless something has happened or someone needs arresting. Then lots of them come.”

  “How far now?” Zhou asked as they passed yet another featureless white plaster wall.

  “Just round the next corner,” the boy pointed toward to the junction ahead.

  They turned the promised corner and came to a halt. Just a little way ahead Zhou could see two gates, one on either side of the road. The gate on the right was closed and two guards, both leaning on long tasselled spears, were stationed beneath lanterns. The gate on the left was unguarded and looked open.

  “Let’s get out of here,” the boy said with a quaver in his voice.

  “Why?” But Zhou could feel it too. The nagging sensation that something was not right. He took another look at the guards to the right. They were both watching the opposite gate carefully and under the lantern glow he could see frowns upon their faces. He started walking towards the open gate.

  “This is wrong,” the boy pulled at his sleeve. “Guards never leave their posts.”

  Zhou dipped into his sleeves and extracted some more coins which he pressed into the boy’s hands. “Thank you for the guide. Now, go home.”

  Before the boy could answer, a figure barrelled out of the open gate. The two guards drew themselves up and readied their spears but the figure ignored them. Clutching its side the newcomer turned and ran towards Zhou and the boy. Zhou pushed his young guide out of the way and tried to call the spirit to him. The figure growled as it closed and with a rough, uncaring hand shoved Zhou aside.

  Rubbing his shoulder, certain a bruise would not be long in coming from the impact with the wall, Zhou regained his feet in time to see the man disappear round the corner.

  “You hurt?” the boy asked him.

  “Only a bruise. You?” Zhou asked but he could see the boy staring at the shoulder he was not rubbing and Zhou looked at it. A red hand shape was imprinted on the material of the robe. He pulled the material away from his skin to get a better look. “I’m fine. I think it was his.”

  “Let’s go. The patrols will be here soon and I don’t want to spend the rest of the night explaining to them that we weren’t involved.” The boy pulled at his sleeve again.

  “I can’t. I’ve got to go in and find the man I was looking for.” Zhou waved the boy away. “Go home.”

  As he moved towards the gate one of the guards stepped forward.

  “We’ve sent a runner for the patrols. Best you don’t go in,” he said.

  Zhou nodded to him but ignored the advice and stepped in through the gate. The courtyard was divided into four quarters. Two, at diagonals, were expensively tiled to produce patterns that, in the flickering light, were hard to make out. Of the other two, the closest was a rocky herb garden and the furthest an ornamental pond. In the pond, a man floated face down and amongst the herbs another laid sprawled out staring up at the clouded sky.

  All of the doorways on the raised wooden walkway that surrounded the courtyard were closed apart from the one directly ahead. A face appeared at a window to his left and it quickly vanished from view. A servant, he thought. He reached for the spirit and let it come to him, feeling the animal fill him and assume his form. His nostrils picked up the iron tang of spilt blood, the taint of fear on the gentle breeze. The courtyard brightened and now he could make out the dragon design on the tiles and its reflection in the roof decoration.

  “Zhou, we should go.” The boy’s voice sounded behind him and Zhou turned. The young boy’s face blanched and he staggered backwards, turned and fled through the gates.

  Zhou rolled his sleeves up, away from his hands, as he prowled the courtyard, heading towards the open door. A trail of blood, small spatters and tiny puddles, indicated the direction the man had fled from. Zhou followed them back to the source. He stepped over another man's body lying in the doorway and entered the inner room. There was only one other occupant whose expensive robes were ruined by the lake of blood it lay face down in.

  Zhou reached out a hand and turned him over. As the head lolled, Zhou saw the deep wound in the man's neck and the crushed nose on his face. He quickly searched the body and found absolutely nothing. The whole chain of people had led to this, a literal dead end. There was no-where else to go but the castle and no one to help him. He was on his own.

  The clatter of metal and armour from outside made him turn sharply. He raced from the room and out into the courtyard. Five patrol soldiers had entered the courtyard. Two were checking each body and the fifth, the one giving orders, was blocking the gateway.

  “Stop him,” the leader shouted and pointed at Zhou. The other guards raised themselves from their inspection of the dead, drew their swords and advanced on him.

  The escape route through the gate was blocked and Zhou had no intention of getting caught tonight. He ran at the soldiers and then, at the last second, changed direction and leapt on spirit infused legs up onto the roof of house. Despite the shouts and threats from below he jumped again, down into the street and sped away.

  Chapter 34

  Haung stumbled up the street. Ahead, he could see the gate to the castle and through it the route to ensuring his wife’s safety. He could still feel the pain from the wound on his back but the blood had ceased flowing.

  “Jiin-Wei?” One of the castle guards had spotted him.

  “Let me through.” Haung straightened as much as the pain would allow. “I must report to Commander Weyl.”

  “You’re hurt. I’ll sender a runner to get a healer.” The guard handed his spear to a comrade and stepped forward to help Haung.

  Haung raised his hand, “No need. My news is too important to wait on a healer. Send a message to the Captain of the Guard. Ask him to station guards throughout the castle immediately. I have news of an assassin.”

  The guard saluted, “Right away. I’ll do it myself.”

  Haung staggered through the gate and into the castle proper. The guard. having reclaimed his spear, raced off without waiting for him. Haung passed the second gateway and into the large open courtyard. Straight ahead, the tiered central keep reached up towards the dark clouds. Branching either side were the administration buildings and to his right and left the soldiers’ barracks. Haung’s destination was the other side, in buildings set aside for officers and other functionaries who ran the castle proper.

  “Marbu, I am coming for you,” he muttered. Haung walked across the courtyard with an itch between his shoulder blades expecting, any second, an arrow to steal the last of his life. The troops on the battlements were all looking out onto the town and those patrolling the courtyard did not approach him, but still the itch remained.

  Haung’s legs ached as he climbed the steps, a much longer journey than he could ever remember, up to the main door. The guards stationed at the top moved to help but he waved them away. Instead of turning towards Commander Weyl’s office he went the opposite way, towards Jiao and his child.

  The atmosphere of the castle was changing with every step. The news of his return, and the manner of it, had r
aced ahead of him. The corridors were becoming busier as more and more soldiers took up their positions. The guard had carried out his orders and at least the duke would be safe and, hopefully, the guards in the corridors would stop Marbu carrying out the murder of his family.

  # # #

  “Who is it?” The voice was muffled by the wooden door.

  “Jiao, it’s me.” Haung lent on the wall next to the door, “Let me in, quickly.”

  The wooden door opened a crack and Haung saw Jiao’s suspicious eyes peering through. There was a gasp and then the door was wrenched open and Haung almost fell into her arms as she helped him inside.

  “Lock and bar the door.” Haung lowered himself onto a stool, wincing as the cut on his back was pulled open again. Jiao followed his commands. “Jiao, we need to leave.”

  “What’s happened?” She started to slip the wooden toggles from the hoops on his robe.

  “Marbu is behind the attacks on the duke.” He gave a sharp intake of breath as the slit and bloody robe was pulled away from the wound. “I killed one of his assassins tonight but there are others and they could already be in the castle. Someone will be coming here to kill you and the baby. The assassin told me they would. We have to leave.”

  “You’re hurt. Let me wash the wound.”

  “Jiao, later.” He tried to turn and face her but was brought up short by a grimace of pain.

  “Husband, we need you to live. The wound needs treating and you’re no good to us dead. It won’t take long.” He could hear Jiao bustling around behind him. “Go and lay face down on the bed. But be quiet, the baby is still asleep.”

  Haung paused by the bed, looked down at his sleeping child and smiled. The bed cover was soft and warm against his bare skin, the mattress gave under his weight and he realised how tired he was.

  “Don’t you go to sleep, Haung,” Jiao said as she swabbed the blood away from the wound on his back. “You’ve got fibres from your robe in the cut. I’ll have to get them all out or it will get infected.”

  “How deep?” Haung asked. The absence of the robe, the cool water on his skin and the gentle breeze were quenching the burning pain.

  “More blood than anything. It needs sewing up though. You should see a healer. I’ve got the tweezers but,” Jiao said, “this is going to hurt a bit.”

  “No time, Jiao. I’m sorry,” and he placed his palms on the bed to push himself up.

  “Make time,” she said and pushed him back down again.

  Haung clenched his jaws together as Jiao began to pick out the fibres from the wound. Jiao’s tweezers were a kingfisher dancing across a lake, dipping its sharp beak in here and there snatching up fish from just below the rippled surface. He gripped the bed covers hard and buried his forehead in the soft mattress, smothering his cries and whimpers.

  “Done,” she said finally and he felt the wash of cool water again.

  Haung edged off the bed and stood up feeling slightly lightheaded. Jiao passed him a bowl of wine which he drank in one great gulp.

  “Help me with the bandage,” he asked his wife and together they wound tight layers of bandages around his middle. “Now, pack a bag. We need to get moving.”

  Haung dragged a pair of lose cotton trousers, a silk tunic and leather vest out of the wardrobe and struggled into them whilst Jiao busied herself with the packing. Last of all, he picked up a belt sewn with lots of little leather pouches and buckled it around his waist.

  “You’ll have to carry him,” he said to Jiao. “I’ll protect you both.” He reached into the wardrobe one more time and pulled out his scabbarded Jian Sword. “Ready?”

  Jiao picked up their still sleeping child and held him close, “Ready.”

  # # #

  Haung left the room first, checking left and right down the corridor. It was empty. He beckoned Jiao to follow.

  “The main gate will be locked down now but I have another route in mind,” Haung said and began to move off down the corridor, sword in hand.

  Two soldiers came round the corner and a step behind them, Marbu.

  “Going somewhere, Jiin-Wei Haung?” Marbu said. “The commander would like a word with you.”

  Haung backed up a step, “Jiao, get back into the room and lock the door,” he whispered.

  “But...” Jiao began.

  “Don’t argue, please.” Haung drew his sword from the scabbard and slid into a defensive stance, right foot extended, sword arm straight, point aimed at the soldiers, “I am going nowhere with you.”

  “I warned the commander of your treachery, Haung.” Marbu waved the soldiers forward, “And now you will pay the price.”

  Chapter 35

  The last thing Zhou did before leaving the inn was to pick up the Dryad’s staff. The tingle on his palm as he gripped the smooth wood was reassuring. Everything else he owned and would need he shoved into a small bag that he left at the foot of the bed. He locked the door from the inside and then opened the small window in the far wall. It looked out over the wooden roof of the stable upon which he landed with a low thump. He waited for any change in the noise coming from the inn or stables that would indicate someone was coming to investigate, but after a few moments he was sure they had carried on as before. Creeping to the edge, he looked down to ensure the coast was clear and then lowered himself to the ground.

  The late night streets were quiet and Zhou, resting the short staff on his shoulders, walked along them, towards the castle, trying to appear confident, as though he belonged. If a patrol came near he would nod to them and, often as not, he received a nod back, occasionally a smile too. The castle itself was not too distant and Zhou knew, from his guide, that he would not have to traverse the poorer and more dangerous areas of the town. Beneath the rich silk robe he had purchased earlier with the last of the dryad’s silver and gold he was sweating. The robe, chosen for its length as much as its style and function as a disguise, covered the darker, tighter clothing that he had selected for the real purpose of tonight.

  The closer he came to the castle complex, the more frequent the patrols became. He noticed a change in the soldiers too. They did not smile at him now, their eyes were more concerned with the shadowed areas which the lanterns did not illuminate. Hands never strayed far from the handle of swords or loosened their grip on haft of spear. He sweated even more.

  “Excuse me, Sir.” The next patrol he met stopped him. “It would be best if you went home now, Sir. The hour is late and it is not safe to walk the streets at this hour. Even this close to the castle, footpads and rascals have been known to operate.”

  “It has always been safe before, Captain,” Zhou said.

  “Corporal,” the soldier said. “But ever since the refugees turned up the streets haven't been as they were. Best you were at home, Sir. Have your servants fix you a drink and relax. There is more rain on the way, prime conditions for a footpad to operate.”

  “Good advice, Sergeant.” Zhou smiled and nodded to the soldier, “Seems to be a few more patrols out tonight than I am used to seeing. Something happening?”

  “Nothing unusual, Sir. Just want to make the streets safe for honest people like yourself,” and Zhou noted the slight frown appearing on the soldier’s face. “Now, I must insist that you make your way home. I can have a guard escort you, if you’d like?”

  Zhou read that as ‘keep an eye on you’ and bowed politely to the soldier, “No need, Captain, no need. I can see you have your duties to do. I’ll heed your advice and go home for a relaxing drink. Good might to you.”

  The soldier returned the bow, “And to you, Sir.”

  Zhou tapped the staff on the cobbles as he walked away, a gentleman with a cane, and turned the corner at the end of the street, moving away from the castle. He walked and tapped until he was sure the soldiers were out of hearing distance and then picked up the pace back towards the castle.

  There were more patrols but by being careful, patient and sticking to the shadows he made it closer and closer to the cast
le walls without being stopped again. The height of the buildings decreased as he neared the walls, from three storeys down to one and the last hundred paces were empty of structures. The wide open space was well lit by the lanterns on the castle walls and regularly patrolled by guards.

  Zhou perched on the roof of a two storey house three or four streets back from the walls. The expensive robe had been rolled up and wedged beneath the eaves. From here, he could see the patrols go round and round, maybe just enough time between to make a dash across the killing ground before the walls without being spotted. Certainly, he thought, not enough time to cross the distance and scale the walls before the next patrol came into sight. To add to his troubles, there were guards on the walls as well. He sat and watched the guards go round and round. The walls so close and so far out of reach.

  As he considered and discarded options he saw a soldier race up to the two who were currently patrolling his side of the wall. They had, from the gesticulations of the newcomer, a heated conversation. Then, all three turned and ran back the way the messenger had come from.

  Zhou slid to the edge of the roof, lowered himself down onto the balcony below and then once more to the street. Calling the spirit he felt it infuse his limbs with strength and speed, his vision blurred and then sharpened. Night was almost as clear as day. He sped through the last few streets and, after a quick glance left and right, across the open space of the killing field. He expected a shout of alarm at any moment and breathed a small sigh of relief as he pressed himself up against the stone wall.

  The wall towered over him, looking much higher than it had from the roof of the house. He slipped two climbing claws out of the small bag, a gift from the dryad, and slipped them over his hands. The staff he secured to his back by wrapping dark material round and round his torso. Taking a cleansing breath, he held the spirit close and began to scale the wall, ears straining to pick up the footsteps of the guards above.

  The small claws found the spaces between the blocks or hooked into the mortared joints. Without them, climbing the wall would have been all but impossible, the stones too tightly fitted for a finger or toe to make a secure hold. Zhou’s feet found just enough friction and purchase to take a little weight off his arms but by the time he neared the top they were tired and aching. He hung still for a moment and tried to breathe without making a sound. Sure that no guard was marching close by, he slipped over the top and immediately leapt from the walkway to the roof of the building ten paces away, legs absorbing the impact. One slate tile began to slide and he snapped a hand out, catching it before it fell. He held the tile close and lay flat against the sloping roof.