The Great Wall

by Mark Morris

  In a corridor in the fortress, Ballard slunk back into a shadowy alcove as a squadron of Bear Corps warriors rushed past, their boots clattering on the stone floor.

  Only when the echoes of their footsteps had faded did he cautiously emerge—to see a dark figure approaching from another walkway that bisected the corridor. Instead of hiding from this figure, he hurried forward to greet him, shrugging to alter the position of the heavy sack whose strap was cutting into his shoulder.

  “Nothing?” Ballard asked.

  Pero shook his head irritably.

  Ballard pulled a sour face. “Do we still need his bow?”

  Pero was still walking, and Ballard scuttled to keep up with him. “We wait no longer.”

  “But how do we know he won’t betray us?” Ballard asked.

  “We don’t.”

  “He must know that they’ll kill him. Now that he’s seen the black powder, they’ll kill him no matter what.”

  Pero flashed Ballard a dark look. “The time they spend killing him is time they’re not chasing us,” he said grimly.

  They hurried on.

  * * *

  Illuminated by thousands of torches, the Imperial Palace at Bianliang was breathtaking in its beauty and opulence. Greatest wonder of the Ancient World, seat of power for the Middle Kingdom, it was the crown jewel in the heart of the city, its every wall and turret, its every pillar, gate and fountain burnished with gold and carved with intricately elaborate designs.

  As Shen led the covered wagon and his escort of purple-clad Deer Corps warriors through the crowded, torch-lit streets of the city, he felt like a homecoming hero. The citizens of Bianliang gaped at him, many bowing, as he rode past. Shen, for his part, primped and preened, offering a haughty nod here, a dismissive waft of the hand there.

  The caravan wound through the streets until eventually it came to a wide walkway leading up to the massive golden gates of the Imperial Palace. As they approached the gates they swung wide, a squadron of Imperial Guards in magnificent red and gold armour filing out to flank the caravan on both sides and usher it through to the palace courtyard.

  Waiting in the courtyard were what Shen recognized as the dozen or so men that constituted the Emperor’s Council. He had once looked up to these men, had aspired to be one of them, but now he regarded them with lofty disdain. They were lackeys and sycophants, interested only in gaining favor with the Emperor. But they had lived cossetted lives, achieving nothing, whereas he had been to the Wall, and returned to Bianliang with a captured Tao Tei. As the Council members jockeyed for position, he smirked, thinking of what the Emperor would say when he saw his prize, of how he, Shen, would be rewarded.

  From now on he would be regarded with awe and respect. He would become known in the city as the man who could tame monsters.

  * * *

  William hurried towards his barracks. He had come to a decision. Hearing footsteps in the corridor ahead, he ducked behind a pillar. A few seconds later there was a flash of red in the gloom of the corridor and a squad of Eagle Corps warriors sprinted past, heading in the direction of the pounding drums. As soon as they had rounded the corridor and disappeared from view, William emerged from his hiding place and hurried on.

  * * *

  Pero held a torch as Ballard removed the loose stone from the foot of the wall beside his bed. On his knees he stuck his hand into the hole, then leaned forward to push it deeper. He had a look of distracted concentration on his face as he probed about in the gap beyond the wall, and then his eyes widened in triumph. He pulled out one leather bag about the size of his hand, then another, and another. By the time he had finished he had eight leather bags stacked up on the floor, covered with cobwebs and dust.

  As he brushed dust from his arm, Pero eagerly lowered the torch to examine the bags more closely.

  With a grunt of disdain, Ballard shoved his hand away, causing the torch flame to flap and sending shadows cavorting crazily up the walls.

  “Careful with that,” he hissed, and nodded at the bags. “They’re full of powder.”

  * * *

  William rushed into the room he shared with Pero, but saw he was already too late.

  Not only was Pero not here, but all his weapons and his few belongings had gone too.

  * * *

  A Bear Corps warrior and a Tiger Corps warrior descended a flight of stairs and began to move quickly along the corridor ahead of them. At the sound of approaching footsteps they scuttled into a nearby alcove and crouched down among the shadows.

  Moments later a squadron of Tiger Corps warriors ran past, looking neither left not right. The soldiers hurried up the stairs with a deafening thunder of boots, whereupon the carved black bear’s head atop the concealed Bear Corps warrior’s helmet, its features frozen in a permanent snarl, emerged from the shadows, the face beneath it peering out cautiously.

  The face belonged to Ballard. His companion in the yellow Tiger Corps armour was Pero. Both men were carrying heavy sacks, and knew that their disguise would not fool anyone for long. But if the armour deflected attention from them even for a moment, or gave them a few seconds’ grace should anyone question them, then the deception would be worth it. Any advantage was better than nothing, and at least the armour would give their bodies extra protection should they be attacked or fired upon.

  They hurried on, Ballard leading them along a maze of corridors and down several more staircases. Eventually, ahead of them, they saw a large dark opening on their left, from beyond which came clattering and splashing sounds.

  Ballard raised a hand and turned his head to whisper to Pero that this was the kitchen and that they should move past the entrance swiftly, keeping their faces concealed. Pero nodded and the two men marched boldly forward. As they passed the kitchen entrance, Pero glimpsed a forlorn-looking figure in Bear Corps armour washing dishes in a vast sink, dozens of dirty plates and bowls stacked up on his left. As the figure turned to grab another pile of bowls, oblivious to their presence, Pero glimpsed his face and wondered why he looked familiar. The question nagged at him until, a couple of minutes later, he suddenly remembered where he had seen the boy before. He had been the young Bear Corps warrior who had misplaced the keys to the stockade the day he and William had been taken prisoner.

  How the mighty have fallen, he thought with a smile.

  * * *

  Shen stood beside the covered cage in the Main Hall of the Imperial Palace. Ahead of him a flight of marble steps led up to a magnificent golden throne entwined with carved dragons. The Emperor sat on the throne in his golden robes and crown, a boy of fourteen with dark, intelligent eyes but a bored, imperious expression on his face.

  Surrounding Shen and the cage was a squadron of Imperial Guards, lances poised, faces tense and alert. Flanking the throne and kneeling on the steps, were the members of the Imperial Council and a collection of eunuchs and courtiers, the ladies in their deathly-white make up fanning themselves furiously, as if pre-empting the swoon that might result from the unveiling of the cage.

  Shen looked up at the Emperor, awaiting his response. After perhaps a minute in which no one said anything, the Emperor rose from his seat and began to slowly descend the marble steps. His every movement seemed to send a ripple of excitement through his entourage. His courtiers dropped to their knees as he passed by, each of them bowing so low that their foreheads touched the floor. The boy Emperor ignored them, instead running his eyes over the covered cage, before finally turning his attention to Shen.

  Despite his impassive expression, Shen saw excitement dancing in the Emperor’s eyes.

  * * *

  Huge spheres of resin, covered in thick oil and set alight, were lowered on ropes from the Western Tower. They bumped against the Wall a couple of times as they descended, sending sparks flying into the night. Eventually they reached their destination, coming to rest on the sand, a circle of fiercely burning fireballs.

  Next, a dozen large metal hooks were latched on to the lip of the parap
et, attached to ropes, which were flung down to the ground below. Once all the hooks were in position, Lin Mae clambered up on to the parapet, coiled one of the ropes around her leg and flung herself over the side. With practiced ease she dived headfirst towards the ground, aiming for the center of the burning circle. Within seconds eleven other Crane Corps warriors, their blue armour flashing in the firelight, were diving after her.

  * * *

  As the canvas tarpaulin was pulled from the Tao Tei cage, the courtiers and eunuchs gathered on the steps and around the Emperor’s throne shrank back, uttering high-pitched squeals of terror.

  The Emperor, however, not only stood his ground, but moved closer for a better look.

  The Tao Tei, the magnet hanging around its neck like a bizarre necklace, was squatting on its haunches, completely dormant. Its great jaws were closed, its eyes were glazed and its breathing was slow and steady, as if it was asleep.

  The Emperor walked all the way round the cage, viewing the creature from every angle. His councilors shuffled behind him in a human chain, trilling with excitement. When the Emperor had done a complete circuit he halted and turned to Shen, who was standing there like a proud father.

  “How did you capture it?” the Emperor asked.

  Shen was about to offer a somewhat creative version of the truth when one of the councilors, a thin, stooped old man with a wispy grey beard, stepped forward.

  “The magnet, your Excellency, keeps the beast in check,” he said, snagging the Emperor’s attention. “This is an incredible discovery and will require our extensive study.”

  As he prattled on, Shen glared at him, feeling like a child whose candy had been snatched by a bigger boy. But he didn’t dare say anything. The Emperor was listening intently to the old man now, and it wouldn’t do to interrupt. All Shen could hope for was that his time would come again. He glanced at the Tao Tei, which squatted placidly in its cage, completely oblivious to its surroundings.

  * * *

  Strategist Wang and a squadron of nervous Tiger Corps soldiers holding burning lanterns stood in a close-knit group in the center of the flaming circle as Lin Mae and her Crane Corps warriors alighted, graceful as birds, upon the ground around them. As soon as the Crane Corps warriors had uncoiled the ropes from around their legs, Wang led them across to the rock formation at the base of the Wall. Motioning to the Tiger Corps warriors to illuminate the area, he showed Lin Mae what had been discovered earlier that evening—a huge arched tunnel, which burrowed through the rock at the base of the Wall. A Tiger Corps warrior stepped forward, torch held above his head, firelight lapping the tunnel’s ceiling and rocky walls. After several feet, however, the orange glow faded, beyond which could be seen nothing but impenetrable blackness.

  Lin Mae looked at Wang, and Wang looked back at her.

  “How far does it go?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No one knows.”

  “Could they have burrowed right under the Wall? Through solid rock? Is that possible?”

  His face was grim. “No one knows that either.”

  * * *

  The fortress was almost empty, most of the soldiers now at battle stations. William ran through the maze of corridors, heading downwards, looking for Pero. Sprinting past a large opening on his left, he glimpsed movement, but he was several paces past the door before he registered it.

  Wondering whether it was his friend, he doubled back, peeking around the edge of the opening. He was surprised to see the young Bear Corps warrior who had dropped the metal bowl staring at him in surprise. Over his armour the young warrior was wearing a wet apron covered with food stains. He was clutching a pile of dirty plates to his chest, which he had presumably been just about to drop into the huge sink of steaming water beside him.

  Hoping the young man wouldn’t raise the alarm, William gave him a smile and a wave. “You’re much braver than they think,” he said.

  Turning and hurrying away he heard a crash behind him as the young man dropped the plates.

  * * *

  Helmeted heads covered tightly by the hoods of their capes, Pero and Ballard crept into the Hall of Knowledge. Ballard had warned Pero that they might have one or two of Wang’s assistants to deal with, but all was silent, dark and deserted. Nevertheless they slunk past the display tables of mechanical devices like ghosts, the breeze from their passing bodies causing a dozen or so silk scrolls that were hanging from the ceiling to shift gently as though stirred from sleep.

  Scurrying across to the far wall, Ballard moved aside a black silk hanging on which had been painted a depiction of the constellations in the night sky. Beneath it was a hidden door, made of thick wood and inset with a huge iron lock. Pero tried the door, but it was immovable, set so tightly into its frame it didn’t even rattle. He looked at Ballard, intending to ask him if he had the key, but Ballard was grinning at him knowingly, and suddenly Pero understood.

  He nodded and stepped back, watching as Ballard swung the sack he’d been carrying over his shoulder on to the floor. From it he produced a small copper tube and one of the bags of black powder. Deftly he filled the tube with powder, stoppered it at one end and slid it neatly into the lock. Then he produced a strip of waxed paper from his sack, which he twisted into a fuse and fed into the exposed, open end of the copper tube. Finally he produced a flint and a wad of dirty cotton from his sack, and carefully returned the small leather bag of black powder to it. Although his hands were rock steady, his face was sweating inside his heavy armour.

  “Get back and take cover,” he said, gesturing towards a nearby workbench.

  Pero hurried across to the workbench and crouched behind it. “What now?” he asked.

  “Pray,” said Ballard. He struck the flint above the wad of dirty cotton once, then again. On the second occasion it ignited. He held the wad of dirty cotton to the fuse, which lit immediately. Grinning, he scooped up his sack and scurried, like a rat chased by a cat, across to where Pero was crouching. Both men lowered their heads and covered their ears as the burning fuse began to hiss.

  * * *

  Lin Mae stood at the mouth of the tunnel, staring into its depths. On her left were her Crane Corps warriors, and on her right the squadron of Tiger Corps warriors, still brandishing their torches. No one said anything, but as pinpoints of light suddenly appeared in the darkness of the tunnel ahead a few members of the group began to murmur in consternation.

  Gradually the pinpoints of light became flickers, which grew brighter, until eventually the dapper figure of Wang appeared, holding aloft a pine oil torch, a squadron of Lin Mae’s Crane Corps warriors, armed with long lances, behind him.

  Panting for breath, his face haggard with shock, Wang said, “It goes all the way through… They… they’ve breached the Wall.”

  It was the worst news possible. There were gasps and moans. One of the Crane Corps warriors who had stayed with Lin Mae slapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob.

  Her shock turning to fury, Lin Mae barked, “Summon my commanders immediately!”

  Li Qing, trying hard to retain her composure, nodded. “Yes, General.”

  17

  Still crouched behind the workbench, fingers in their ears, Pero and Ballard waited.

  And waited.

  Eventually Pero lifted his head slowly and peered over the top of the bench. Seeing nothing he nudged Ballard, who glanced irritably at him. When Pero raised his eyebrows and pulled a ‘What’s happening?’ face, Ballard said laconically, “Why not take a look? See if it’s gone out?”

  “Is it safe?” asked Pero.

  “Of course it’s safe. Just—”

  His words were interrupted by a massive explosion, which buffeted the bench and threw both men backwards. Pero felt as if his skull had been smashed between two sledgehammers. His brain was shaking like a dice in a cup and his ears felt simultaneously to be stuffed with soil and leaking blood. The air was full of smoke and dust and debris; when he breathed in, the air was hot and seemed full of
splinters. He clawed at the bench in an attempt to pull himself up on to his knees and peer over the top, but he couldn’t see a thing. His eyes were blurred and smarting.

  * * *

  In the kitchen the floor shook and the pots and pans hanging on hooks from the ceiling began to sway, clanging against one another. Peng Yong gripped the side of the sink to steady himself as a heap of metal bowls slid to the floor with a clash of metal on rock.

  When the tremor had passed he looked up. Where had the explosion come from? Though muffled it seemed too close to have echoed down from the top of the Wall. Could it have come from the courtyard then? Somewhere closer? And who could have caused it?

  Then he remembered seeing the foreign soldier…

  * * *

  The air was still full of dust and debris, but it was slowly settling now. Coughing, eyes still stinging, Pero clambered to his feet. He felt bruised and battered, but a little pain was nothing new to him; he was used to carrying injuries.

  He was not used to being deaf, though. Not used to feeling as if his head had been squeezed in a vise. He opened his mouth, rotated his jaw from side to side, and was pleased to find that the pressure in his ears eased a little.

  Ballard had already scuttled out from behind the bench and was now crouching beside the door. He was a dark, blurred shape behind a curtain of floating grime. The explosion had blown many of the torches out, transforming the room into a realm of shadows. Flapping at the dust, Pero realized that where the stout wooden door had been was now a charred hole, around which lay pieces of blackened wood, some of which were still burning.

  Ballard’s head snapped round. His thin face was a soot-smeared mask of savage triumph.

  “Shake it off, soldier!” he barked. “To work!”

  * * *

  William was going round in circles. Somehow, after passing the kitchen, he’d lost his way, got turned around, and was now standing outside Ballard’s suite. He banged on the door, then opened it and looked inside. Empty, as he’d suspected. So where—

  The BOOM! of an explosion, not too far away, caused the flames of the lanterns in the corridor to flap momentarily and the floor to shudder beneath his feet. William didn’t exactly stagger, but he put out his arms to steady himself, like a tightrope walker, and turned his head in the direction the explosion had come from.