by Mark Morris
Although her reactions were second to none, she knew, even as she was drawing her sword, that the creature would be upon her before she had time to defend herself. As the Tao Tei’s jaws gaped, she knew that what she was staring at was her own death hurtling towards her.
And then, without warning, something smashed into her from the side, sending her spinning out of the way. She fell, rolled and regained her feet in an instant—just in time to see her savior, General Shao, now standing in front of the creature. His sword was in his hand, and as the huge green mass of the monster bore down upon him, he thrust it forward, straight into the Tao Tei’s mouth. It was dead before it reached him, but Lin Mae was still horrified to see it crash into his body with the weight and power of a dozen horses; to see him first go down and then disappear beneath its pulverizing bulk…
12
Removing a stone from the base of the wall behind his bed, Ballard reached into the hollow and withdrew a tightly rolled scroll of brown parchment. With long, deft fingers he untied the twine around it and carefully unrolled it. William caught enough of a glimpse of the scroll to realize it was a map, but before Ballard could explain exactly what kind it was, and why he was showing it to them, a simple, steady drum beat began to pulse through the maze of corridors within the fortress.
Like a rat sensing danger, Ballard froze and looked up.
“That’s a tower call,” he hissed. “A warning. Something’s happened.”
* * *
The top of the Wall was already thronged with soldiers who had answered the call. Yet still they flowed from every opening, illuminated by thousands of torches, which blazed in defiance of the night.
General Shao, lying on a stretcher, his black and now hideously crushed armour splashed with green Tao Tei blood, was being carried quickly but carefully through the milling crowd. Despite the chaos, soldiers moved back to make way for him, bowing reverently not only to their injured commander but also to Lin Mae, who was by his side.
The stretcher bearers were heading towards the opening in one of the towers, from where they would be able to descend to the fortress, when Shao weakly raised a hand.
“Far enough,” he croaked.
Immediately the stretcher was lowered gently to the ground. Lin Mae and the other commanders knelt beside it, the rest of the soldiers in the crowd around them—including William, Pero and Ballard, who had rushed to the top of the Wall like everyone else—craning forward to see and hear what was happening.
Turning his head with obvious pain, General Shao swallowed and softly said, “Commander Lin.”
Irritated by the buzz of alarmed and speculative conversation around them, Commander Chen turned and barked, “Quiet!”
Instantly the clamor ceased, to be replaced by a respectful silence.
Lin Mae leaned forward to hear the General’s murmured words. “They led us into a trap. We underestimated their intelligence.” His trembling hand reached beneath the collar of his armour and emerged holding a gold medallion attached to a length of silk thread. The rim of the medallion was studded with five precious stones, each a different color to denote the five Corps of the Nameless Order.
“Commander Lin,” Shao said again, and although his voice was weak, such was the depth of the silence around him that it carried a good distance through the crowd in all directions.
Lin Mae leaned forward as General Shao, summoning the last of his failing strength, reached out towards her with both hands. His left hand found hers and cupped it so that her palm was facing upwards. With his right hand he pressed the medallion into her open palm, then closed her fingers tightly around it.
Raising his voice as much as he was able, he croaked, “The Nameless Order is yours to command. This is my final order.” Turning to the rest of his commanders, he said, “From this day forward, Commander Lin will lead you.”
Lin Mae looked alarmed. “General,” she began, but he silenced her with the tiniest shake of his head.
“You are ready.”
Through the tears, which first blurred her eyes and then began to run down her cheeks, Lin Mae saw blood on her beloved General’s lips. She glanced around at the other commanders, and saw tears in their eyes too.
Moving forward, Commander Chen cupped his hands in a gesture of respect and obedience.
“It will be so, General,” he said. “The soldiers of the Nameless Order will stand firm. The Wall must not fall. We will defeat the Tao Tei.” His voice cracked, but with a gargantuan effort he held himself together. “Rest in peace, sir.”
Kneeling beside the stretcher, he and the other commanders bowed their heads. All around them, the action spreading out like ripples from the center of a pond, every soldier present did the same. When the entire force was kneeling, an echoing rumble rolled through the crowd, gradually rising in volume and clarity.
“Rest in peace, General.”
Lin Mae saw the General smile and close his eyes. His chest rose and fell one more time. Then his ravaged body relaxed as the life slipped away from him, and he was gone.
Wiping away her tears, swallowing her emotions, Lin Mae slowly rose to her feet and turned to address the silent, kneeling throng.
“There will be time for memories and offerings later. Today we honor General Shao by letting our weapons do the talking.” Her voice rose, ringing out in the night. “To your stations!”
Immediately the kneeling soldiers rose in unison and began to move in all directions, heading to their various posts. Within a minute or less the area around the General’s stretcher was clear. One by one the commanders rose, turned to Lin Mae and solemnly made a gesture of fealty. After Lin Mae had bowed to each in turn and the commanders had silently filed away, she gestured to the stretcher bearers, a pair of Bear Corps warriors standing to attention nearby, and indicated that they once again pick up the General’s stretcher and follow her into the fortress.
* * *
Observing proceedings from the rear of the now thinning crowd of soldiers, Pero turned to William.
“A woman?” he said scornfully.
But William said nothing. In truth he had been impressed, even overwhelmed, by the manner and consequences of the General’s death. Never had he known such bravery as the General had shown in his last moments. Never had he experienced such a sense of community among warriors, or encountered such dignity in grief, such genuine compassion and love for a fallen leader. And as a soldier he had been overawed by the way every single member of the Nameless Order had accepted without question their dying leader’s final wish, by their instant deference to their new commander Lin Mae, and by the discipline they had shown in instantly obeying her orders and returning to their duties.
He understood Pero’s disbelief. A few days ago he would even have shared it. But now, having seen Lin Mae in action, and witnessed the level of respect she was shown by every other warrior on the Wall, he honestly couldn’t imagine anyone but Lin Mae taking on the General’s mantle. He watched her, spellbound, until she had disappeared from view—and it was only then that he realized Shen, the man he had previously seen behind his desk in the Hall of Knowledge, was standing at his shoulder.
Shen’s voice was curt. He barked a string of syllables at them, only one of which William understood—the name Wang.
Before he could respond two hulking Bear Corps soldiers were lumbering forward, prodding both him and Pero in their backs, a silent but unmistakable command that they should follow Shen, who had already turned and was marching away. William flashed a look at Pero—What the hell have we done now? But Pero, scowling, looked just as mystified as he was.
As they were ushered through the now rapidly dispersing throng of soldiers, William caught a glimpse of Ballard, who had disconnected himself from their company (possibly when Shen appeared) and was now skulking in a shadowy alcove nearby. Ballard too looked disconcerted, and William knew instantly that the man was wondering whether their earlier conversation could somehow have been overheard, their escape p
lans discovered.
Then he was prodded once more in the back, hard enough to make him stumble, and biting back a rejoinder he focused on Shen, who was moving with a kind of fussy imperiousness towards the nearest tower opening. With their menacing escorts looming behind them, William and Pero followed their guide into the gloomy interior of the Wall.
* * *
Lin Mae, walking beside the General’s stretcher through the labyrinthine corridors of the fortress, still protective of her leader even in death, looked up as Strategist Wang appeared around the corner ahead and hurried towards her. As Wang squeezed past the stretcher bearers in the narrow corridor, Lin Mae saw tears in his eyes, glistening with reflected lamp light. The expression on his face, though, was not one of grief, but of suppressed urgency, even excitement.
Reaching her, he bowed in fealty, and then to her surprise leaned forward to whisper something in her ear. She listened for a moment and then straightened up, the urgency on Wang’s face now mirrored in her own delicate features. Knowing there would be runners nearby, ready and waiting to carry her orders far and wide, she shouted, “All Commanders and First Officers to the Great Hall! Immediately!”
13
The Great Hall at night was illuminated by hundreds of pine oil lanterns. The effect of the softly glowing light, reflected in the brightly colored armour of the assembled mass of officers, and of the wavering shadows that rose and fell on the walls like a soft grey tide, gave the vast room a tranquil, almost holy atmosphere. The fact that Shen was reading solemnly from a scroll of parchment spread out on the table, with Lin Mae and her staff silently surrounding him and listening intently to his every word, only added to that impression. Across the room, standing a little apart from everyone else, William and Pero were listening to Ballard’s murmured translation of Shen’s words.
Despite the brusque treatment they had received, the two men had quickly realized they were not in trouble. Indeed, their presence in the Great Hall might even be construed as a courtesy, if not a privilege, extended to them by Lin Mae—though William suspected there was a more specific reason why they were here, one that had not yet been revealed to them.
In the meantime Ballard had revealed that Shen was reading from a nine-hundred-year-old battle report. In a low voice he was now translating the imperial liaison officer’s words.
“…at the Hansha Gate, in the middle of a strong wave of Tao Tei, three beasts mounted the Wall. They killed many men as they came forward, threatening our flanks and raising panic…”
He listened a moment, head cocked to one side, and then he resumed.
“And then, by the Grace of the Ancient Gods, the beasts stopped and sat peacefully, never moving as we slaughtered them…”
Ballard fell silent a few moments after Shen. William looked up, to see that Wang, with Lin Mae and her commanders watching the strategist with interest, was walking determinedly towards them.
Still some twenty feet away he came to a halt and said, “I am the Tao Tei. The river is behind me.” He gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “I will come towards you. I want to know the exact distance that was between you and the Tao Tei when you made your attack.”
All at once William realized why their presence had been required here. This was an experiment. Strategist Wang was trying to recreate the moment when William had killed the first Tao Tei out at the camp in the desert, presumably in the hope of finding out exactly how and why he had managed it.
William nodded and stepped forward. Wang began to walk slowly towards him. When he had halved the distance between the two of them, William held up a hand, indicating that Wang was standing at roughly the right distance.
“And the beast stood its ground as I am?” Wang asked.
“A bit larger—but yes,” said William.
Wang looked more than satisfied—in fact, he looked positively energized. Turning smartly he strode back to the table and picked up an ancient-looking book that was sitting there. As he began to speak to Lin Mae and the assembled officers, Ballard translated his words.
“He says the book is from the Library here. It’s an equipment manifest from nine centuries ago.”
Wang put the book down and turned again to the scroll, which was still spread out on the table, its corners weighed down with smooth, highly polished green stones. Once more Ballard translated for William and Pero as Wang began to read from it.
“At the Hansha Gate was an unusual winch, which had been brought from Yunnan. A lodestone so powerful it was able to pull unbound iron up the rampart walls…”
Wang looked around, allowing his words to sink in. Then, with an understated but nevertheless orchestrated sense of drama, he picked up William’s magnet and held it above his head.
As he began to speak, Ballard muttered, “He believes the magnet is the reason you were able to kill the Tao Tei in single combat. He thinks it has power over the Tao Tei.” He listened to what else Wang was saying with a frown on his face, his lips moving slightly, as though silently rehearsing his translation before giving voice to it. When he next spoke, it was not to paraphrase Wang’s words, but to offer a literal, though halting translation.
“I believe there is… hearing… sound beyond what we can sense… the ears of dogs and wolves… superior to man… the great birds… the owl… the bat… many sounds no man can hear… we know the Tao Tei… we see them listen to a voice we cannot understand…”
His frown deepened as Wang’s words spilled out faster, his voice becoming more strident.
“I think the magnet makes them deaf. Without instructions from their Queen they fall still.”
Instantly he had finished speaking, there rose a tumult of excited speculation. The black stone was passed from hand to hand, and although there was skepticism on some of the faces, there was a great deal of hope too. Lin Mae listened to her commanders discussing the practicalities and implications for a few minutes, and then she raised a hand for silence. Looking at Wang, she said, “How can we be sure that you are right?”
Unsure whether he was breaking protocol, William stepped forward. “Why not try it?” he said.
Eyes turned towards him. Wang spoke a short sentence to the assembled throng, presumably translating his suggestion.
Lin Mae’s question was a challenge. “How?”
“We capture a Tao Tei and see if it works.”
She rolled her eyes dismissively. Wang translated his words and many of the officers snorted in derision; some laughed.
“What’s the problem?” William asked. “Have you never captured one before?”
“No net is strong enough,” said Wang.
“You don’t need a net. You hunt him like a whale.” He addressed Lin Mae. “You know what that is? It’s a water beast. Many times the size of a Tao Tei.” He demonstrated with his hands as he spoke. “I’ve seen it done in Spain. The hunters use a spear that grabs. It hooks the bone. Then they pull him up.”
Now Lin Mae was listening intently, Wang behind her translating his words for the assembled officers. From their body language, facial expressions and tone of voice, William could tell that his suggestion was meeting with a variety of responses—from derision to excited interest, dismissal to contemplation.
There was only one response he was interested in, though. He focused his attention on Lin Mae, the new commander of the Nameless Order.
Her dark eyes stared back at him. She looked thoughtful.
* * *
In the corridor leading back to their barracks, the first moment they were alone, Pero grabbed William roughly by the shoulder and spun him around.
“What are you doing?” he hissed, his face furious. “Now you’re involved with this? We need to be free when the attack comes! How many chances do you think we’ll get?”
“I just—” William began, but Pero cut him off.
“No! Just nothing. We’ve already done enough. Get out of this. When the time comes, be injured. Be missing. Be a coward.”
With an ag
gressive sweep of his arm, he turned and stormed off down the corridor, leaving William to stare after him.
* * *
The next morning William found himself up on the battlements, overseeing preparations for his plan to capture a Tao Tei. He had been summoned that morning and given the surprising news that Lin Mae was in favor of his suggestion, and that a strategy had already been discussed and agreed upon. When he emerged from the base of one of the towers, into early morning fog so thick that the world beyond the Wall was nothing but a densely swirling grey mass, it was to find that an assembly line had been set up and was already operating at maximum efficiency.
Shrouded by mist, which not only impaired vision but deadened sound into a suffocating silence, Strategist Wang was carefully pouring yellow powder from a gourd into a large bowl full of liquid. From the fact that he was wearing gloves, and that he turned his head away from the bowl every time he needed to inhale, it was evident that the concoction was pretty pungent stuff, if not downright toxic.
Indeed, William quickly noticed that everyone who came into contact with the stuff was handling it with extreme care. As Wang mixed the yellow powder into the liquid, various assistants, all similarly gloved, were scooping up smaller bowls of yellow paste and distributing them to a long line of Eagle Corps soldiers. The red-armored warriors, supervised by Commander Chen, were busy brushing the yellow paste onto the tips of newly forged metal harpoons, and then passing them on to Bear Corps soldiers, who were transporting them with utmost care to the Eagle nests along the Wall, where they were being loaded and chained to the winches.
It was clear to William, when he arrived, that the process had been going on all night. As he strolled along the Wall, nodding to Lin Mae and her officers, who were alternately monitoring the plan’s progress and nervously peering out into the mist, he realized that the furthermost Eagle nests he came to had already been equipped with poisoned harpoon ballistas, and that all that was left to be supplied were the closest, most central nests.