THE ELEVENTH TIGER
DAVID A. MCINTEE
B B C
Published by BBC Worldwide Ltd,
Woodlands, 80 Wood Lane
London W12 OTT
First published 2004
Copyright © David A. McIntee 2004
The moral right of the author has been asserted Original series broadcast on the BBC
Format © BBC 1963
Doctor Who and TARDIS are trademarks of the BBC
ISBN 0 563 48614 7
Imaging by Black Sheep, copyright © BBC 1999
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham Cover printed by Belmont Press Ltd, Northampton
If this book is dedicated to anybody,
it should be to Gary and Linda Stratmann, and to Derek Arundale and the rest of the folks in Yorkshire’s Ji-Tae school of Taekwondo.
‘Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand The downward slope to death’
- The Dream of the Red Chamber
CUTAWAY I
Translated in 1890, from the surviving fragment of ‘Mountains and Sunsets’ by Ho Lin Chung (AD 1537): One thousand seven hundred and forty-seven years ago, a Taoist priest, who happened to be passing a hill, sat down for a while to rest under a tree. As the priest ate some bread and rice, he noticed a disconsolate piece of jade which also lay in the shade of his tree.
This piece of jade was in the fashion of a delicate bracelet, of a kind the priest’s sister liked to wear. His curiosity aroused by this, he picked up the jade, and was astonished when it began to speak to him.
‘Sir Priest,’ the stone said, ‘perhaps a tale will help your meal settle, and pass the cold night more agreeably.’ The priest agreed, and the jade told him the story which was inscribed upon it.
So moved was the priest by the jade’s tale, he copied it out from beginning to end as the stone told it to him. Here it is: Under a Dynasty which the jade leaves unnamed, two Generals had greatly distinguished themselves in battle.
These Generals were brothers, by the names of Zhao and Gao, and they were the favourites of the Emperor and lived with him in his great palace at Chang’an. They are the heroes of this tale.
These men, these brothers, divided between them the virtues of a warrior. Zhao was stronger than two oxen, heavy of feature, and a more powerful man the Emperor had never seen. Gao was fleet of foot, and with the agility of any monkey, but his features were fine and well turned.
One day, the Emperor bade his Generals bring to him the most learned priests and scholars in the Empire. Gao ran the length and breadth of the Empire, taking the Emperor’s orders to every school and temple in every city of the Seven Kingdoms. In this way, one thousand six hundred and forty priests and scholars were prepared when Zhao arrived to carry them all to the Emperor’s palace.
‘Great Majesty,’ the Generals said, ‘here are the priests and scholars you bade us bring to you.’
The Emperor remained as aloof and regal as befits Heaven’s representative on Earth. He retreated with the priests and scholars, and for ten years the Emperor was not seen, not even by his two favourite Generals.
During these long years, made sad by the absence of their beloved Emperor, the brothers took good care of the Empire.
They also loved and married, and became fathers to strong sons, whose descendants would be Generals for ever more.
After those ten long years, the Emperor once again called the brothers to his side. ‘Loyal Generals,’ the Emperor said,
‘you have done well to do my bidding while I have been studying with these priests and scholars. Now I have a task for you.’
‘Anything, Great Majesty,’ the Generals replied. The Emperor smiled, pleased by their loyalty and their prowess at doing his will. The Emperor pointed to the one thousand six hundred and forty men of learning, and told his Generals to put them all to the sword, that no-one else might learn from them what he had learnt.
Being warriors, the work of dispatching men by the sword was familiar and easy to the brothers. Gao slashed more quickly than the eye could see, piercing ten in the time it takes a man to blink. His brother Zhao clove men in two with the tiniest gesture of his great sword.
Overcome with emotion, the Generals thanked the Emperor, and begged him to give them new orders that they might obey to please him further. ‘Test your soldiers,’ the Emperor ordered, ‘and choose the eight thousand best among them to be brought before me.’
This the brothers did, and soon the eight thousand greatest warriors in the Emperor’s army paraded before him. The Emperor was pleased. ‘You will come with me,’ he said, ‘into Heaven and Hell. You will be my bodyguards for ever.’
Having so engaged these men, the Emperor sought to have them prove themselves to him, and so he instructed them to take every scroll and book and map from every library in the Empire. When the Eight Thousand had gathered this proud and eclectic population, the Emperor had the frightened books built into the shape of a hill. ‘Now,’ he told the books,
‘your secrets will remain secret, and I will guard them well, and you will never tell.’
So saying, the Emperor had his beloved Generals join the brightness of flame to the dryness of the paper, that none of the garrulous books could divulge secrets that only the Emperor should know. Only one brave scroll remained: a map, which was the Emperor’s closest companion and dearest friend.
Led by the map, the Emperor took the Generals and the Eight Thousand to the Islands of Japan. There, under his leadership, and the brothers’ skills at warfare, the warriors triumphed over all who stood against them. The loyal map had brought its Emperor safely to the castle of a great Shogun, who was also a priest. It was this man whom the Emperor wished to speak with.
The Shogun-priest’s castle was built upon a mound of stones two hundred and twelve feet high, and guarded by one hundred thousand samurai. The Emperor’s eight thousand warriors were each worth twenty samurai, and quickly turned the tide of battle. The samurai were cut down easily by the best warriors in Asia.
The Shogun-priest laughed at this, for the samurai’s duty was to die for his master. Impressed by the Emperor and the Eight Thousand, the Shogun held a great feast to celebrate that they had passed the test he set them.
The Shogun then gave the Emperor a great gift, telling the Emperor all that he needed to know to fulfil his dreams. He also taught the Emperor to read the stars in the sky, to know when Heaven was closest to the Earth, and most reachable.
The Shogun then left his castle.
When the Generals came to him once more, the Emperor rewarded them with amulets given to him by the Shogun-priest. Zhao received a most marvellous piece of jade, with the inscription: ‘Lose me not, forget me not, Eternal life shall be your lot.’ Gao was awarded a wonderful gold amulet, upon which also were certain words inscribed. On it was written:
‘Let not this token wander from your side, And youth peren-nial shall with you abide.’
Watching the stars as the Shogun-priest had taught him, the Emperor decided that it was time that he, his Generals, and the eight thousand best warriors in the world, took their place in Heaven. And so, the Emperor entered Heaven upon his return from the Islands of Japan.
His son, and the brothers who were Generals, followed the instructions that the Emperor had given to them, and which he had received from the one thousand six hundred and forty priests and scholars.
And the Generals, loyal and fearless as warriors should be, followed their Emperor in all things, and with strength and quickness of fist, foot and sword, conquered Heaven and Hell. All but one.
And there the Taoist priest stopped writing, with the rising of the sun. The cold night had indeed passed agreeably. But the priest’s curiosity was
not sated, and he asked the jade:
‘What of the one you mentioned? What of his tale?’
‘If you return this way another night,’ the jade told him, that tale will pass that night as agreeably as this one, for it is another story.’
CHAPTER ONE
Executioners from Shaolin
l
Hoof beats and heartbeats blended into a frantic drumming in Cheng’s ears. His horse wasn’t foaming at the mouth yet, but he could tell it was only a matter of time - and not a long time, at that.
The Mongols used to say that a fast horse under you, and the wind in your hair, were among the best things in life.
Maybe that was true if you rode simply for pleasure. As he rode in flight Cheng thought the cold air stinging his eyes, and the bouncing of the horse’s strong back hammering at his spine, were the least pleasant necessities he knew of.
A glance over his shoulder showed that his companions were keeping up with him, the faces of their mounts contorted in wild effort. Like himself, the men all wore loose shirts and dark trousers. Also like himself, they were all festooned with daggers, swords and bows. Beyond them there was no sign of the expected pursuit.
Cheng slowed his horse. His companions followed suit as they came alongside. ‘You think we’ve put enough distance between us and that caravan?’ Li asked, wiping the dust from his scarred face.
‘Yes,’ Cheng said. ‘I see no horses following us. Anyway, ours need to rest before they drop dead under us.’ He looked up at a leaden sky that was darkening by the moment. ‘We’ll need to find shelter, and soon.’
Li looked up and nodded. ‘Bad one coming.’
‘As bad as I’ve seen,’ Cheng agreed.
He looked round at his group. Nine men, including himself, and nine horses. They would need more than a woodsman’s hut to shelter in. A full-sized farm would be best, but there was nothing of that nature in sight.
Fields stretched for miles, with only the occasional patch of bushes to offer any kind of cover. To the left a hill rose, its sides scattered with trees.
‘What about there?’ Li asked. ‘There must be a cave, or something.’
Cheng considered the hill. It wasn’t large enough to be a mountain, but it was a good enough size to have a cave or two in which they could hide. ‘All right. Li, you tie the horses under cover. We’ll look for more shelter.’
It didn’t take long for Cheng to find a low cave halfway up the hill. It was wide, but they’d have to bend almost double to get inside it. That didn’t bother Cheng too much; the ceiling would be at a comfortable enough height when he and his friends were sitting around a fire or sleeping on a dry floor.
Pang worked his magic with flint, tinder and a dry tree branch. In moments, the torch was handed to Cheng and he crawled into the cave. There was no sign of animal tracks on the dry earthen floor, and certainly no sign of people, but this didn’t mean there were no hidden dangers. Cheng thrust the torch out in front of him, pushing it into every nook and cranny to check for snakes - which were only too happy to reside in such places.
Once he was satisfied that the cave was safe he called the others inside. The horses would have to shelter under the trees, which were already beginning to sway in the wind. So long as lightning didn’t hit one that was close to a horse, the animals should be safe enough. Just to be on the safe side, Cheng brought his saddle pouch into the cave with him. The other men did likewise, none of them willing to risk losing any of the loot they had gained that morning.
Cheng watched with a smile as the lads stored their stolen goods and weapons in a natural alcove as far from the cave entrance as possible. Some of them then set to skinning rabbits, while Pang built a proper fire over which they could cook meat, and which would keep them warm while they slept.
Outside, the rain had started and the trees were thrashing around as if under the guiding hands of lion dancers. Inside, the smell of wood smoke and roasting meat and spices failed to mask the smell of dusty, unwashed clothes and bodies.
Cheng grinned to himself thinking of how he would buy fine silks with his share of the loot, and girls to wash and pamper him. He found himself a slope of earth against the cave wall and settled down to wait out the storm. The earth would be more comfortable than rock against his back.
The low murmur of his companions’ chat faded as he began to doze off. He could almost see nubile bath attendants waiting to greet him as he started to dream.
Suddenly, the earth supporting his back crumbled and he fell, his shoulder skipping painfully over stubs of rock. His companions laughed.
‘Shut your damned faces,’ Cheng snapped. He had landed on his side, and pulled himself up into a sitting position.
‘Anyone who thinks...’ He fell silent, realising that he and the earth had fallen through the wall. There was a new and irregular gap, starkly black in the fire-lit wall. ‘What the hell?’
Pang stuck a branch into the fire, then brought it over in his meaty fist and poked it into the opening. ‘It looks like a tunnel. I think there are steps.’
Cheng took the torch and threw it, carefully, as far as it would go. Then he looked in and saw that Pang was right.
Earth and rubble half-filled the rocky passageway. It sloped downwards, and below it steps were carved into the floor. The torch, still alight, was on one of them.
‘What the hell is this place?’ Pang asked.
Cheng wished he had an answer for the big man, but he had grown up the son of a farmer, not a builder. ‘Let’s take a look and see.’
Cheng and his companions looked around in awe, and tried to breathe. The air was musty and ancient, thick with dust that it was easy to believe had come from old bones. Pillars encrusted in the mineral deposits of centuries stretched either up to, or down from, the ceiling - Cheng wasn’t sure which. The encrustations were flaky, and reminded him of windblown leaves sticking to tree trunks. The entire place was a forest of stone.
The bandits, all of whom now carried torches, spread out through the cave. There were no furnishings, and no lost piles of treasure. If Cheng had to guess, he’d say it was probably a meeting place, or perhaps an exercise hall.
‘Follow the walls,’ he said quietly. The acoustics of the cave were such that his words would carry. ‘There must be other chambers somewhere in here.’
The others nodded and spread out. From the way the light of their torches seemed to shrink, Cheng could tell the space was vast.
A movement above him caught Cheng’s eye, and when he looked up the breath caught in his throat. A silver flash like a shooting star was fading between the stone trees, and he could see bright, clear stars.
For a moment he thought the cave must be open to the sky, until he remembered the rainstorm outside and the height of the hill above him. There were indeed stars above him, in the familiar constellations, but they were glinting with reflected light from the bandits’ torches. Hoping they were jewels, Cheng held his own torch as far aloft as he could, and squinted.
The stars were some kind of metal set into the roof of the cave. And it looked like silver. Not silver ore, either, but refined and polished silver, which must surely have been put there deliberately.
‘Pang! Li!’
The two men came running, and the rest of the group, curious, followed them. Cheng pointed upwards. ‘Have you seen this? It looks like silver.’
‘Silver? The gods must be with us tonight!’ Li said cheerfully.
Pang shivered slightly. ‘I don’t know about this.’ The other bandits looked at him. ‘This place, it’s full of ghosts. Can’t you feel them?’
‘No,’ Cheng lied. The place was spooky, but why let that get in the way of earning a living?
‘I can. This place is old, Cheng.’ Pang touched the nearest pillar gently, running his hand along the mineral bark. ‘It feels like something that was here before the rest of the world.’ He hesitated. ‘Why are there no bats in here?’
‘I don’t know.’
�
��Maybe because only ghosts could have lived in something so ancient.’
Nobody laughed at Pang’s tone, or at the idea of ghosts.
‘I’m going back up to keep an eye on the fire. I don’t like this.’ With that, the big man turned back towards the tunnel.
A couple of the other men looked uncertain, then followed Pang’s lead.
‘More for the rest of us,’ Cheng said. He put his hands together as a stirrup for Li. ‘Can you get one of those stars loose?’
Li nodded and put his foot in Cheng’s hands. Cheng hefted him up, and leant back against a pillar. Li lifted his other foot on to Cheng’s shoulder, and drew out a small dagger. When he touched its point to the surface of the star Cheng saw the silver ripple.
Li jerked back and fell on to the ground. He glared at the tip of his dagger. ‘Quicksilver.’ He stood up and looked at the ceiling. ‘But how? Why doesn’t it rain down?’
‘Quicksilver?’ Cheng echoed. That explained the liquid ripple, but Li was right to wonder how it came to be on the ceiling. Cheng didn’t have an explanation for him, and momentarily wondered if Pang might have been right about the ghosts. Then there was another flicker across the artificial starscape; a pale wash of quicksilver, thin enough to be all but transparent, flowed from constellation to constellation. Cheng stopped wondering: Pang was right.
‘Hell’s teeth,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s get out of this cursed -’
A cry and a solid thud from the direction of the tunnel shut him up. Had a ghost...? No, had Pang slipped or had the tunnel caved in? A fallen torch was burning on the floor and, in its light, Cheng could see Pang lying on the ground. Blood matted his hair, but he was still alive, moaning faintly.
There was no sign of the two men who had joined him in his flight. Cheng didn’t need to ask what had happened - a lean young man wearing the robes of a martial monk was already stepping into the cavern. He twirled a staff guardedly, and stepped aside to let in a muscle-bound ox of a monk who was carrying a pair of nunchuks. An older man, undoubtedly their leader, followed them. He was unarmed and Cheng found this slightly worrying. The older monk - an abbot? -
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