by Mark Morris
Pero started to run.
* * *
The wailing sound, eerie and high-pitched, almost child-like, had come from the harpooned Tao Tei. Still fighting the sedative, it was squirming on the end of the chain, making a last desperate bid to escape. Peering over the parapet, Lin Mae saw the blades protruding from this section of the Wall retract to allow her men to haul the creature up the last stretch of stone. She wondered whether the creature’s wail was a cry of pain or anguish (she had thought the Tao Tei possessed no real emotions), but when she saw a swarm of green shapes rising swiftly up the outside of the Wall towards it, she suddenly realized what it really was—a distress signal.
Sure enough, instead of scaling the Wall towards their human enemies, the Tao Tei surrounded the impaled creature and tried to release it, their huge jaws biting at both the harpoon and the chain. Lin Mae turned and yelled at the winch bearers to hurry, knowing that within moments their potential catch would be lost.
But already the extra weight on the chain as several Tao Tei leaped and clung on to it was too much for the winch bearers to cope with. Try as they might to hold on, their contorted faces sweating and straining beneath their helmets, the chain which they had taken such pains to reel in slowly but surely began to unravel, sparks flying up as metal scraped squealingly over metal.
Suddenly she sensed someone beside her and turned to see the foreign soldier, William, his bow and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. He glanced at Lin Mae and then peered over the parapet to see what was happening. To his right the chain was scraping and shrieking over the lip of the stone Wall as it continued to unravel.
As William moved across to the chain, Wang, still standing on top of the command tower, shouted, “What are you doing?”
William glanced up at him. “I’m going over. It’s the only way.”
He was aware of Lin Mae’s eyes widening, of Commander Chen looking at him as if he was crazy. Then Chen turned to Lin Mae, as if silently asking her what the protocol was for this situation, whether the foreigner could do what he intended without her permission.
Lin Mae looked at William, and a moment passed between them—of respect, perhaps of understanding.
Then she gave the barest of nods, and the next moment William leaped up on to the edge of the parapet, wrapped his legs around the unraveling chain and plunged headfirst towards the ground.
14
Using his legs as a natural brake, he eased the tension in them a little to allow his body to slither down the chain even as the chain itself was plunging towards the ground. As he descended through the mist, he grabbed a handful of arrows, aimed his bow, and fired off several quick shots.
His aim, as ever, was impeccable. Shot through both eyes, the Tao Tei directly below him, that had been attempting to gnaw through the chain, lost its grip and fell away, tumbling into the murk below, dead before its body had even reached the ground.
William fired two more arrows, and the Tao Tei that had been trying to bite the harpoon from the impaled creature’s abdomen also fell away.
But now William was so low down the Wall—closer to the ground than he was to the parapet—that the stonework around him was swarming with Tao Tei, some of which were still ascending and some of which were simply clinging there like giant green spiders, as if awaiting further orders from their Queen. Many of the creatures William dispatched before they even became aware of him, his body spinning and swaying on the descending chain as he fired off arrow after arrow with dazzling speed and skill.
By the time the now unconscious Tao Tei, its body still attached to the harpoon, reached the ground, William was no more than twenty feet above it. The Tao Tei’s landing, slowed by those still working the winch at the top of the Wall, was a relatively gentle one. William slid down the last few feet of chain and swung round to land on his feet beside the Tao Tei’s body.
He looked around him, but all he could see was thick white fog. Were the Tao Tei even aware that he was here? He looked up at the chain, which was swallowed by fog about thirty feet above him. Now that there was only the dead weight of the unconscious Tao Tei to contend with, would they have another go at winching it up? In fact, why weren’t they doing it already? Because the winching mechanism was damaged? Because they were all exhausted from their earlier efforts and were pausing for breath before starting again?
Suddenly a Tao Tei loomed out of the fog, going down on all fours and springing at him like a dog. Reacting instinctively, William brought his bow round and fired two quick arrows, piercing its eyes and stopping it in its tracks.
But even as he jumped to the side to stop the creature’s dead bulk from slithering into him and crushing him against the Wall, another Tao Tei lunged at him from his left hand side. He turned, trying to adjust his position and bring his bow up at the same time—and succeeded only in tripping over the outstretched claw of the creature he had just killed.
The Tao Tei bellowed in triumph, its jaws opening wide. William fell, his bow beneath him. He knew even as he twisted round to face his attacker that there was no way he’d be able to roll off the bow, grab it, load it and fire it in the couple of seconds it would take for the creature to crunch him in its jaws and devour him. There was barely even time to resign himself to his fate—which was probably a good thing.
Then there was a thwack! and the next instant the creature’s severed head was flying through the air. Hot, stinking green blood from its stump of a neck splashed over his boots as it collapsed, shuddered for a moment and then became still.
Astounded, William looked up. Wreathed in fog, Pero looked like a wraith. He was scowling, an axe dripping green gore in his hand. As Pero hauled William to his feet he said, “I’m only saving you so I can kill you myself.”
“How did you get here?” William asked.
Pero pointed at the chain ascending into the mist. “Same way you did.” He looked quickly around to peer into the fog that surrounded him, and then back at William, anger and confusion on his face. “Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s possible,” said William, and then shouted a warning as a Tao Tei lunged out of the fog behind Pero. He spun, swinging his axe and smashing the creature to one side. Stepping smartly forward, William finished the beast off with two swift arrow shots to its eyes.
As the Tao Tei’s body slumped into lifelessness, Pero asked caustically, “This is where you want to die?”
“Wherever we go, you always ask me that.” William whirled and fired more arrows as another Tao Tei hurled itself out of the fog towards them.
Pero leaped forward to finish the Tao Tei off, then deflected the attack of another of the creatures, giving William time to fire another pair of arrows into its eyes.
“And you never answer!”
William grinned, exhilarated by the adrenaline pumping through his system, and in the lull between attacks rushed across to the unconscious Tao Tei. He examined the chain, which, though a little mangled by Tao Tei teeth, looked as though it would hold okay, and then the harpoon, the metal of which was splintered and frayed like old rope.
Quickly he looped the slack length of chain lying on the ground around one of the creature’s stumpy, powerful legs and cinched it as tight as he could. He gave three hard yanks on the chain, hoping the winch bearers above would recognize it as a signal that they should reel the creature in. How he and Pero would get out of their current predicament he didn’t know, but it was a question he’d asked himself a hundred times before. So far they had managed to get by on their wits, their skill and an awful lot of luck.
Another Tao Tei came out of the fog at them, and then, almost simultaneously, another. Perhaps they could smell his and Pero’s blood and were starting to home in. Or maybe they were alarmed at the thought of one of their own kind in the hands of the enemy, and were swarming forward to prevent that happening.
It certainly seemed to William that those up above had received and understood his message. Slowly—too slowly—the chain was tighteni
ng and the Tao Tei’s limp body was rising into the air. It hung upside down by one leg, its huge arms dangling either side of its head, black talons scraping the stonework of the Wall as it was hauled up, inch by painstaking inch.
William and Pero, meanwhile, were fighting a desperate rearguard action, spinning and jumping and firing and slashing, relying on their speed and their instincts to defend their valuable prize as the Tao Tei came at them from all sides. But whereas they were slowly but surely beginning to tire, the Tao Tei were not. And whereas William was running out of arrows, and didn’t have time to retrieve any of the ones he had fired, the Tao Tei had teeth and claws to spare.
* * *
Although the winch bearers were working hard, and the chain was gradually being reeled in, Lin Mae knew it was taking far too long. She was also worried about William. If he wasn’t dead already, he very soon would be.
“Prepare black powder weapons!” she yelled.
Chen, at the winch, looked up at her, shocked. “General?”
“Do it!”
* * *
The attacking Tao Tei were now little more than a blurred chaos of green flesh, black talons and teeth-lined maws rushing at them out of the fog. One of them bit down on Pero’s axe blade as he swung it and jerked its head back, lifting him off his feet, and causing him to cry out as his shoulder was almost wrenched from its socket. William spun and let loose two arrows, piercing the creature’s eyes. Pero fell back to earth as the creature collapsed. But before he had time to take evasive action, another Tao Tei came at William from the side, swinging a claw and knocking him over. He sprawled on the sand as the creature charged, its jaws yawning wide.
* * *
On the top of the Wall, Bear Corps warriors were carrying locked metal boxes from the towers. The instant the boxes were placed on the ground, they were unlocked and thrown open by Eagle, Deer and Tiger Corps warriors. The contents of the boxes—black powder arrows and lances—were rapidly lifted out and passed along the ranks.
“Light the fuses!” Lin Mae shouted.
* * *
Desperately William thrust his bow forward, jamming it between the creature’s wide open jaws. It screeched and bit down, but although the bow bent it didn’t break. Frustrated, the creature lashed out, its claw catching William on the shoulder as he tried to stand up and sending him spinning through the air again. He landed heavily, his fall partly broken by the dead body of another Tao Tei.
He had no idea where Pero was. The fog shrouded everything beyond a six feet radius. Suddenly there was a sizzling whoosh and a soft thud. William turned his head to see what looked like the shaft of an arrow sticking up out of the ground. Curiously the arrow was still sizzling and smoking.
Instinctively he turned away to shield his face, as with an enormous bang the arrow exploded in an eruption of crimson flame. William felt red hot sand pattering down on him, stinging the backs of his hands. When the sand stopped falling he swung back round, his ears ringing from the explosion. He saw a huge ball of fire rising and engulfing the creature that had attacked him, black grainy smoke mixing with the fog, reducing his vision still further. His body trembling, as though shock waves were still running through it, he struggled to his feet and began to stagger through the fog, calling Pero’s name in a voice that felt thick and muffled in his ears.
As though from far, far away he heard Pero’s answering cry. “William? Damn it, William!”
Standing among the burned remains of the creature whose mouth he had jammed with his bow—a blackened claw here, a lump of charred meat that might have been its head there—he swung this way and that, trying to locate the source of his friend’s voice.
Then he saw movement in the gritty grey fog, something shambling slowly towards him. He tensed, but almost immediately realized the figure was too short and thin to be a Tao Tei.
But what was this? His friend or some kind of demon? The figure’s skin was black, its clothes hanging in tattered rags.
“Pero?” William said uncertainly.
The figure slowly raised its head. But before it could answer, there was another enormous explosion from somewhere behind it, and propelled by a gout of fiery air it was thrown forward, smashing into William, the two of them landing in a choking sprawl of flailing limbs.
Coughing, his eyes gritty with smoke, William rolled on to his front, pushed himself up on his hands and knees. Beside him the ragged figure was lying on its back, its body racked by spluttering coughs. William wiped his eyes and looked at it more closely—and was delighted to discover that it was Pero.
He was about to say his friend’s name when a shattering roar interrupted him. Turning to his right, he saw a Tao Tei charging towards them through the grimy air, head low and mouth wide open, as though to scoop them into its maw and swallow them whole. William grabbed at Pero’s arm, trying to haul him up, but Pero was as limp as a corpse. He looked around for something he could use to defend himself with, but there was nothing except charred and burning meat. His bow had been lost when the creature had died in the explosion and Pero had stumbled into view with no weapon in his hand. Which meant that out here, in this environment, they were now as helpless as babies.
When the Tao Tei was no more than six feet away from them, another arrow sizzled down from the sky and lodged itself in the creature’s mouth, burying itself deep within its rows of teeth. Perhaps in pain, perhaps by instinct, the creature clamped its jaw shut.
It was almost certainly this action that saved William and Pero’s lives.
The arrow exploded inside the Tao Tei’s mouth, blowing its head into a thousand pieces. Bombarded by a rain of flesh and green blood, William reeled and spun, his head ringing as if he’d been caught with a knock out punch. He tried to stay upright, but his vision was spinning and closing down, and he no longer had control over his limbs. The sky swooped away from him, but he didn’t realize he’d fallen until he tasted sand in his mouth.
He only realized he’d been unconscious when his eyes snapped open. How long everything had gone black for, he had no idea. It could have been anywhere from two seconds to two hours. His guess, though, was that it was seconds, otherwise the Tao Tei would surely have eaten them for breakfast. Head still spinning, confused and disorientated, he struggled to his knees.
When he saw a flashing wall of yellow, like a piece of the sun fallen to earth, he thought at first he was hallucinating. Then his vision steadied, enabling him to focus, and he realized it wasn’t sunshine he was seeing, but a contingent of Tiger Corps warriors in their yellow armour and flowing cloaks. Two of them were dragging a deliriously struggling and thrashing Pero towards a black doorway that had opened in the base of the Wall, while the others formed a protective guard, backing to the door with their long lances held out in front of them.
To his horror, William realized that they hadn’t seen him, that his body had been hidden behind the slumped bulk of a Tao Tei. He staggered to his feet, his legs feeling as unsteady as splints, and raised a hand.
“Hey!”
His voice was a rusty croak. The Tiger Corps warriors, still backing towards the door, their faces set, gave no indication they had heard him.
Pero had, though—or at least, at that precise moment, he seemed to come temporarily to his senses and look up.
“William!” he yelled.
His cry alerted a pair of yellow-clad warriors, who glanced in his direction, their eyes narrowing against the smoky air. Summoning all his strength, William began to stumble across the sand towards them. The warriors, seeing him, beckoned him towards the open doorway, barking words at him in a language he didn’t understand, but which he nevertheless knew was their way of urging him to go faster.
He broke into a shambling run just as a Tao Tei erupted from the grimy fog to his left. It would certainly have intercepted him before he reached the door if a pair of Tiger Corps warriors had not leaped forward and thrust their long lances into the advancing creature’s eyes.
With a
last burst of effort, William homed in on the black doorway and propelled himself towards it. He felt hands grabbing his arms, supporting him, hauling him forward.
Then the doorway swallowed him and he tumbled into the blackness beyond.
15
It was dusk. Lin Mae’s first full day as General of the Nameless Order was almost over.
And what a day it had been. A day of blood and violence and fear.
But they had survived. Again. And with the foreigner’s help they might even have achieved a significant victory.
Only time would tell.
Exhausted now, but trying not to show it, she followed a nurse into the huge infirmary, buried deep within the belly of the fortress. Most of the time, during the years when the Tao Tei slept, the infirmary was all but empty, the smattering of patients suffering from little more than fevers or training injuries. Now, though, it was a full and bustling place, the medical staff tending day and night to those wounded, some severely, in the recent battles. Nurses and doctors hurried here and there as Lin Mae followed ‘her’ nurse between the occupied beds, nodding and offering encouraging words as she went. Many of the men and women lying here had lost limbs or been so badly injured that they would never fight again. Some were so badly injured that they would not survive, and were merely being kept as comfortable as possible until the inevitable occurred.
The patient she had come to see, though, had suffered no more than cuts, bruises and concussion. His worst injury was a gash to his ribs, which a nurse was bandaging as she arrived.
Nevertheless, when she sat at the side of William’s bed, Lin Mae was shocked to see the condition of his body. William, still groggy, was stripped to the waist, and she found it hard not to stare at the dozens of battle scars striping his torso. Together they seemed to make up a map of pain; they were testament to a life ruled by violence and conflict. Some of his more recent scars were still red and angry, whereas others were little more than tough old knots of white scar tissue. She exchanged a glance with the nurse tending him, who was also clearly shocked at the extent of his injuries. Finishing up, the nurse bowed and excused herself, as did the one who had brought her here.
