by Mark Morris
Commander Wu’s snarling yellow tiger helmet flashed as he nodded. “I agree. Let’s get rid of them and get back to work.”
Commander Chen too added his support to the views of his colleagues. With a dismissive glance at the two filthy men, he said, “General, we have no time for this nonsense.”
General Shao, though, was not so impetuous as his younger, hotheaded subordinates. He looked silently to Wang for his input. The wily strategist, his age closer to the General’s own, said quietly, “I advise we keep them alive for a few more days… at least until we all arrive at the same truth.”
General Shao gave an abrupt nod. “Agreed.”
Lin Mae scowled. She glared at the two men, who clearly had no idea what was happening. That, at least, gave her a little satisfaction. Unless the General gave her a direct order to inform the foreigners of his decision, she would leave them stewing in their own uncertainty as to whether they were to be executed immediately or allowed to live a little longer.
All at once, from outside the doors to the Great Hall, but approaching rapidly, came the steady pounding of a drum. The discipline of all those in the room dissolved for a moment, and they began to chatter among themselves. Then General Shao held up a hand and they were silent once more. But Lin Mae could not blame them for their momentary loss of control. The drum meant only one thing. It was a warning of dire peril.
As the pounding came closer, General Shao ordered, “Open the doors.”
A couple of soldiers hurried to do his bidding. Next moment a runner rushed down the corridor that led to the Great Hall, and dropped to his knees before the General’s feet.
“General Shao,” he gasped, clearly trying to retain his composure. “Signals from the smoke towers. We are under attack!”
Though the news was not entirely unexpected, Lin Mae sensed a collective intake of breath among those present, a suggestion of increased tension, of hushed anxiety. The only person who did not seem to be affected was General Shao himself. Calmly he said, “Take the prisoners to the North Tower stockade. Get them under lock and key. We have no time for this now.”
Lin Mae nodded, whereupon the General turned and bellowed, “All stations on full alert!”
As the runner raced out, continually repeating the General’s order at the top of his voice, the room suddenly burst into swift and efficient motion, everybody rushing to their posts. Although those currently manning the Wall had never faced a real attack, they had planned and trained for this moment for many years, and now that the reality was upon them, Lin Mae had no doubt that the operation would be carried out with the utmost precision and efficiency.
First, though, she had to ensure that the prisoners were put under lock and key, as the General had ordered.
“You two!” she barked. “Come with me!”
The more talkative of the two men, the insolent one, was watching the flurry of activity around him with bemusement. “What’s going on?”
“Never mind! With me! Now!” she yelled.
* * *
In the shadows of the walkway above, the man who had been avidly watching proceedings in the Great Hall glanced up fretfully, his blade-thin nose twitching, like an animal sensing danger on the air. Then, muttering darkly to himself, he slunk away, silent as a ghost.
4
The pounding of drums echoed through the vast interior complex of the Great Wall. Smoke rose in precisely controlled signals from engraved copper vats on every turret, conveying messages far and wide. The corridors rang with shouted orders, and troops rushed in all directions, heading for their stations. In the midst of this manic but rigorously rehearsed pandemonium, William and Pero, hands bound behind their backs, were being hustled towards an unknown fate.
In front of them the blue-armored woman—Lin?—was leading the way, flanked by her two captains, or lieutenants, or whatever they were. Behind them, just in front of William and Pero, was the small, neat figure of the scholarly man who had been examining their possessions, moving with such economical steps that he seemed almost to be gliding along. Behind William and Pero, at the back of the group, cutting off all hope of escape, were eight huge, heavily armed soldiers in black bear armour, their faces set like stone.
A little breathlessly, Pero called out, “Are you about to kill us, sister?” His voice was all innocence. “Two lost travellers?”
The blue-armored woman didn’t reply, didn’t even glance back at them.
Turning to William, Pero said in Spanish, “What are we doing here, my friend? Is this cold bitch walking us to the gallows?”
“I think she’d like to,” William replied, eyeing her sweep of raven-black hair, the way she moved, nimble and quick as a bird, despite her armour.
Raising his voice, Pero said sweetly, this time speaking in English, “If it’s death we’re heading for, my dear, then I need time to pray. I’m a very religious man.”
But still his words met with no response.
They turned to their left, passed through a wooden gate, and began to climb a set of steep stone steps. The steps were divided into groups of twelve, at the top of each of which was a stone landing. Gaps to their left offered them brief glimpses of different levels of the Wall, and of soldiers preparing weapons and taking up positions, readying themselves for battle.
“I know this, sister,” Pero said. “I know siege preparations when I see them. Who comes at you so hard that you need a wall like this?”
The blue-armored woman continued to lead them resolutely upward, acting as if Pero hadn’t spoken.
The ominous pounding of the drums went on and on. William was starting to lose patience with the woman’s silence. Angrily he said, “If we’re to die, what’s the harm in telling us why?” When she still failed to respond, he bellowed, “What the hell did we kill out there?”
The scholarly man turned to regard him. He had the air of a man of science examining a new and interesting species of insect. “Tao Tei,” he said. “You killed a Tao Tei scout.”
William and Pero both gaped. Until this moment they had had no idea that the man could speak English. William opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the man spoke again. Raising his eyebrows a notch—his only concession to incredulity—he said, “You killed it. You killed it alone.”
William and Pero looked at one another. What William had done was obviously significant. But when it came down to it, the beast, though big and fearsome and full of green blood, had been nothing but a wild animal. And he had been armed. So why all the fuss?
“What is a… Tao Tei?” Pero asked.
Up ahead the blue-armored woman finally responded—but only to bark an order at the scholar in Mandarin. The little man looked affronted, and responded coldly. William didn’t need a translator to tell him that the woman had told the man not to speak to the prisoners, whereas he had clearly said something to the effect that she wasn’t his boss, and that he would do as he saw fit.
Sure enough the little man turned back to them and said, “You are correct. We are under siege. But we did not expect the attack for another nine days. Many things about your story have importance.” He puffed out his chest a little, and as though the choice was his, declared importantly, “You are not to die today!”
If he expected gratitude, he was to be disappointed. William, for one, didn’t like his use of the word “today”. If he and Pero were to be killed, he’d rather get it done quickly than live under the shadow of death for however long it might be until he was no longer considered useful.
“That’s great,” Pero said with more than a hint of sarcasm, “but can we go back to the Tao Tei? Or did I miss something?” He enunciated his words carefully. “What is a Tao Tei?”
Before the little man could respond, the blue-armored woman raised an arm and barked an order. Immediately the soldiers both at the front and back of the group came to a halt, forcing William and Pero to do the same. William looked up to see they had arrived at a large solid-looking door with a circula
r handle below an oversized keyhole.
“Must be the stockade,” he murmured to Pero.
From behind them, one of the Bear warriors detached himself from their eight-strong escort and marched forward, carrying a huge dusty ring of keys. William glanced at him as he strode past, and was surprised to see that beneath the fearsome black helmet molded to resemble a snarling bear’s head was the face of a young and nervous boy. In fact, now that he looked more closely, it was clear that the boy’s armour, which was snug on his muscle-bound comrades, was a little too large for him. Despite the circumstances, William almost smiled.
The young bear warrior reached the blue-armored woman and nervously pushed a key into the lock. He tried to turn it, but it didn’t turn. As he withdrew the key and began to search for the right one with trembling hands, William saw his eyes widen in panic, saw sweat begin to trickle down his face. The blue-armored woman stood motionless, glaring at him. With the din of battle preparations audible from the nearby Wall, it was clear she was eager to get this job done and enter the fray. The young bear warrior muttered what could only have been an apology, and the woman released a gasp of exasperation. She said something to her two lieutenants, and they hurried away—clearly she had been giving them leave to join the oncoming battle.
Pero looked at William, amusement dancing in his eyes, and mouthed: Wrong keys.
William grinned back at him, but there was a part of him that couldn’t help feeling sorry for the boy.
* * *
General Shao stood on top of his command tower, his black cape with its bear emblem snapping in the desert breeze. Flanking him on both sides were several of his commanders, resplendent in their brightly colored armour. Though the group stood in solemn silence, staring out at the desert beyond the Wall, the air seemed to vibrate with tension and fear, but also with excitement. They all knew that what they were about to face was savage and terrible—but it was a moment they had all anticipated for as long as they had lived. A moment they had trained for, ceaselessly and tirelessly, since they had been children. A moment they had been born for.
In the distance, across the valley, a thread of river glistened under the sun. Beyond the river was the jade green Gouwu Mountain. At first glance the scene seemed a picture of beauty and tranquility. But beneath the whisper of the breeze was another sound, almost indiscernible at first, but quite definitely there. It was a sort of churning. Or rumbling.
Like distant thunder.
As the rumbling grew louder, it was accompanied by yet another sound, carried forth on the wind. This new sound was shriller and far more disturbing. It almost sounded like… babies.
Thousands of babies.
Wailing in terrible distress.
* * *
The group in front of the stockade door suddenly tensed and raised their heads, each of them half-turning in the direction of the outer wall. From beyond it, faintly, they could hear a terrible sound, a hideous screeching wail, as if thousands of children were being tortured.
Lin Mae was the first to recover. Turning to Wang she said urgently, “Strategist, the Crane Corps needs me. I must go. Please forgive me.”
Without waiting for a response, she hurried after her lieutenants, Xiao Yu and Li Qing.
Wang sighed, and then turned his mounting ire on the young Bear warrior, whose name was Peng Yong. “Hurry!” he snapped.
But his irritation did not encourage the boy. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Peng Yong jumped, and dropped the ring of keys, which hit the floor with a tinkling clatter. Sweating heavily, Peng Yong patted his own body, as if the missing key could somehow have magically worked its way beneath his armour without his knowledge.
“Sir, I…” Suddenly he blurted it out. “I cannot find the key!”
Wang sighed again, heavily, then spun to indicate the two prisoners. “Forget it! Bring them to the Wall and have the Bear Corps watch them!”
He stomped away. Still sweating, Peng Yong turned to the two prisoners and the group of impassive Bear Corps soldiers behind them. He gave a jerky nod, and saw the two men’s eyes widen in alarm as gauntleted hands clamped down on their shoulders.
* * *
Moving nimbly and almost silently for a man of his age, Strategist Wang sprinted up the steps of the command tower. He emerged into daylight to find General Shao standing there alone, staring broodingly at what looked like a dust storm, bowling towards them from the far-distant jade mountain.
Shao turned and nodded a greeting. Wang moved forward to stand beside him, his head barely coming up to the clawed bear paw epaulette on the General’s right shoulder.
“So General,” he said, “it’s finally happening.”
Shao nodded again. “Sixty years,” he said. “Sixty years spent in preparation for this one moment.”
* * *
Lin Mae hurried up the steps of the Crane Corps command tower, followed by several blue-armored warriors. At the top a nervous but clearly relieved Xiao Yu moved forward to greet her.
“Commander Lin,” she said, “the sky rigs are ready to deploy.”
* * *
William whistled in admiration as, escorted by the bear warriors, he and Pero passed through a pair of huge wooden doors and onto the wooden platform of a vast space just behind the outer surface of the Wall itself. The area—it couldn’t really be called a ‘room’—was deep and high, and stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions. William couldn’t help but feel he was standing within the workings of some colossal timepiece, albeit one that was infinitely more intricate and complex than anything he had seen before. Wherever he looked, his eyes were dazzled by numerous, vast mechanical components working in perfect harmony. There were enormous wooden and iron bearings, a cornucopia of wheels, winches, gears and levers, some propelled by gushing spumes of water. And among all of this, like busy but autonomous cogs in the machine, were dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of yellow-clad tiger warriors, each of whom were working furiously, operating an array of cranks and pulleys and rotating wooden handles.
He and Pero were ushered to the edge of the platform, and just for a moment William wondered whether they were about to be pushed into the maelstrom of grinding cogs and cables he could see below—blood sacrifices to the great devouring Wall. To his right he saw weird contraptions, five of them, slowly rising from hollows within the depths of the machinery. They were long and thin, and made him think of part of a ship’s rigging, its sails and spars tucked in tightly for now, though ready to expand, to unfurl, when given space to do so.
The five contraptions were being hauled upwards by chanting, sweating soldiers, but before they could reach the level on which William and Pero were standing, an iron cage slid down from above on pulleys and opened directly in front of them. The young soldier who had dropped the keys, as if anxious to make up for his earlier mishap, barked at them and shoved them forward. He and another bear warrior followed them into the cage, the young soldier closing the door behind them. Then several soldiers on the platform began to turn a winch, and the cage rose smoothly into the air.
William might have been alarmed if there hadn’t been so much to distract his attention. Through the bars of the cage he watched the narrow contraptions, which were now beside them and still rising rapidly—more rapidly than they were, in fact. Pero’s astonishment matched his own as the huge, folded bundles of sails and spars slid past their cage, ascending to the high ceiling. Just as it seemed the five contraptions would either have to come to a halt or collide with the ceiling, five separate sections of the ceiling opened with a cracking sound, and the contraptions rose majestically up through the holes, beyond which they could see daylight.
William and Pero looked at each other, blinking in awe. They had seen many wondrous sights on their travels, but never had they seen anything so advanced as this, and on such a vast scale. William couldn’t help but feel he and his companion were primitive and uneducated cave dwellers in comparison to their hosts. Whoever the enemy of thes
e Wall warriors might be, they would surely have no chance of victory against such an incredible display of ingenuity and organization.
The cage reached its apex and clanked to a halt. The big bear warrior opened the door and the younger bear warrior, overly aggressive now, shoved William and Pero forward. They stumbled a little, squinting in the sudden bright sunlight that shone down on top of the Wall. To their right the battlements, which faced the desert, were a hive of activity as troops made their final preparations for war. William veered in that direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was foolhardy enough to attack the Wall and its many and varied defenses. He had taken no more than a couple of steps, however, when sunlight flashed on steel, and a moment later the tip of a sharp lance was pressed against his neck.
The young bear soldier’s face was apoplectic with rage. His show of aggression and hostility wasn’t quite convincing, though. Beneath the boy’s bluster William sensed fear and uncertainty. If they hadn’t been surrounded by myriad armored soldiers, he would have found it a simple task, even in his exhausted state, to have snatched the lance, flipped it round and rammed it through the young warrior’s guts. He decided, though, that in this instance it was better to comply than to retaliate and end up dead. And so, curling his lips in a disarming grin, he raised his hands in surrender.
Clearly buoyed by his mastery over the foreign prisoner, the young soldier yelled an order at them. Although they didn’t understand his words, the fact that he jabbed them with the end of his long lance made it clear that he wanted them to sit against the wall. William and Pero did so, their backs pressed up against the rear parapet. They watched the proceedings around them with a mixture of professional curiosity, apprehension and utter astonishment.
What astonished them the most was the fact that the Wall, incredible structure though it was, was not simply a barrier against attack, but a brilliantly conceived war machine. Peering over the parapet behind them, they saw that attached to the Wall below was a seemingly endless row of huge trebuchets, like gigantic, jointed arms that were even now slowly straightening, that stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions.
