by Mark Morris
He stumbled and fell, rolling onto his back. There was another gigantic explosion, more screams and once again burning white flame, hotter and brighter than the sun, rushed in through his slit of a window, blinding him.
What was happening out there? How could triumph turn so quickly to tragedy? Were the Nameless Order under attack?
He wanted to batter down the door and rush out. He wanted to help in any way he could.
But all he could do was sit on the rocky floor of his cell and listen to the explosions and the screams.
* * *
Perched in her own gondola with Xiao Yu and Li Qing, waiting for their balloon to fill so they could take off, Lin Mae watched with horror as a burning Eagle Corps soldier fell from the sky. He twisted and writhed as he plummeted downwards, burning bolts and arrows and bits of charred gondola falling around him. She tensed as he smashed into the ground, sparks flying into the air. And he wasn’t, by any means, the only casualty. In front of them other soldiers and gondolas were falling too, other balloons erupting into vast fireballs.
Yet for every balloon that didn’t make it, there were at least three or four that did. The ground might be peppered with the burning dead and chunks of blazing debris, but the sky was filled with the majestic sight of dozens upon dozens of balloons heading like airborne sailing boats towards Bianliang.
Not all of them would get there, of course. In fact, it was questionable whether any of them would. There was a long way to go and the black powder was highly volatile. Even those balloons that survived the initial launch were still at risk of disaster with every second that passed.
But the possibility of a sudden and horrible death didn’t deter the warriors of the Nameless Order. Even now they were still filing calmly forward, still filling the gondolas, their faces set and determined, their sense of purpose undimmed. They had been born to fight the Tao Tei, and if this was the only way of fulfilling their mission, then so be it.
The wind was picking up, blowing harder than ever now. Lin Mae looked up at the vast balloon above their gondola, which was billowing and flapping as it filled. Bear Corps soldiers and Tiger Corps soldiers clung on to guy ropes, struggling to contain it, as the wind tried to pluck it, only half-deflated, over the Wall.
If that happened, of course, it would mean certain death for Lin Mae and her crew. The material of the balloon would droop into the brazier and ignite, which would then in turn react with the black powder and cause an explosion.
Yet still the wind tried to drag the balloon from the Wall, and still soldiers clung on desperately to guy lines in an attempt to stop that from happening. And as the balloon rose, became fatter, so the gondola beneath it began to sway and shift, causing its occupants to stagger and stumble about. Lin Mae and Xiao Yu grabbed and held on to the ropes which secured the gondola to the balloon, both to try and regain their footing and also prevent the ropes from tangling. Li Qing, meanwhile, operated the plunger, attempting to manage the surging flames erupting from the brazier.
Slowly but surely, with everyone working together, the balloon fully inflated, becoming round and taut. As it did so it strained towards the sky, dragging the gondola behind it. The soldiers on the Wall held on to the guy ropes for as long as they possibly could, and then, at an order from their commander, they all let go at once.
Propelled by the wind, the balloon threw itself eagerly from the parapet, like a bird launching into the endless sky. Lin Mae felt herself hurtling forward as the gondola swayed and rocked. For one awful moment she thought it would tip over, causing them to fall out and plunge to the ground far below. She saw a rope in front of her and grabbed it, holding on for all she was worth. She was vaguely aware of Xiao Yu stumbling over from the other side of the gondola, slamming into her and ricocheting off, before she too managed to grab hold of a rope and steady herself. Then Lin Mae noticed that the brazier was unmanned, Li Qing having been hurled away from it as the balloon had lurched. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw that the black powder nozzle was open. If the gondola tipped the other way and too much black powder poured out of the nozzle and into the brazier…
“Watch the powder!” she screamed.
Li Qing pushed herself up on to her knees and, as the gondola steadied, launched herself forward. She threw herself against the black powder nozzle and held on, shielding it with her body. The gondola gave another couple of sickening lurches and then began to steady. The wind was still strong, but the balloon was properly airborne now, riding the currents.
Heart thumping wildly, Lin Mae regained her feet and looked around. The sky was filled with balloons that were rising, moving forward, their crews bustling about, manning the braziers and pulling on ropes. Some of them, shockingly, were still blowing up, erupting instantly into flames as the black powder ignited. Many, though, were leveling out, picking up speed, ploughing forward. It was terrifying, but also exhilarating.
She looked behind her. The Wall was getting further and further away. She could still see balloons inflating, launching themselves from the battlements. She glanced at Xiao Yu and Li Qing, who looked back at her, and she grinned. Xiao Yu grinned too, though she had tears in her eyes.
On the horizon the sun looked like a spreading pool of blood.
20
Ballard cackled as he rode through the canyon. He’d shown that idiot who was boss! All the time Pero had thought he was top dog in their partnership, whereas in truth Ballard had manipulated him every step of the way. No doubt the Spanish simpleton had planned to dispatch him at some stage of the process and take the spoils for himself, but if he thought such a possibility wouldn’t have crossed Ballard’s mind, he was even stupider than he looked. Well, how did he like it now, out in the middle of the desert with no food, no water and no horse? Ballard’s only regret about running out on Pero was that he hadn’t been there to see the look on his face when he realized he’d been hoodwinked!
He moved quickly along the valley floor, the reins of both Pero’s horse and the packhorse attached to the pommel of his saddle. Eventually he came to a ridge and paused to scan the surrounding landscape, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the setting sun.
Suddenly his horse shied, almost throwing him off. He gripped the reins tight, lowering his hand and looking down to see what had startled it.
Trudging up the ridge towards him, converging on him from three directions, were a trio of rangy horses with unsmiling, black-clad men on their backs. The men’s hands were not on their reins, however. Instead each of them had their bows drawn and pointed his way. At the sight of the metal arrowheads trained on him, Ballard felt his bowels contract, his balls shrivel into his belly. But he forced himself to clench his teeth in a grin and raise a hand, as if he was greeting old friends.
“What fortuitous timing, gentlemen!” he cried. “I’ve been wandering all day looking for new partners!”
He kept his smile fixed to his face as the brigands closed in.
* * *
It had gone on for a long time—the explosions, the fierce, brief flashes of flame—but now it seemed to be coming to an end. William still heard the occasional shattering boom, some of which seemed quite close, some much further away, and saw white flashes burst like lightning bolts into his cell, but they were more spaced out now, the periods of darkness between one explosion and the next more protracted.
He still couldn’t work out what had been happening, why the Nameless Order had taken to the sky in vast balloons. Had they decided to attack the Jade Mountain from above, to drop black powder into its craters and tunnels, to split it apart? But if so, why? Why take the fight to the Tao Tei? The Wall was a powerful war machine, and a fearsome defence mechanism, and according to Wang, all they had to do was hold out for a few more days and the threat would be over for another sixty years.
Something must have happened, he decided. Something drastic that had necessitated a change of tactics. But what? Was it something to do with Pero and Ballard? Had they used the black powder to�
�� to breach the Wall in some way, perhaps as a distraction to allow them to escape? But that didn’t make sense either. That still didn’t account for the balloons.
William was still trying to work it out when the key grated in the lock of his cell and the door was shoved grittily open.
He wafted dust away from his face and squinted against the light. It wasn’t particularly bright light, merely the pine oil lanterns burning in the corridor, but after being shut up in the dark for several hours, it was like staring into the sun.
As far as he could make out, there were three soldiers standing in the doorway. Shielding his eyes he saw they were Bear Corps warriors—all big men and all staring at him without expression.
Why were they here? Was his presence required? Were they bringing food? Or had Lin Mae decided to execute him, after all? One of them stepped into his cell and beckoned him with a crooked figure and a guttural phase that he didn’t understand. Still blinking, he stepped into the corridor, the Bear Corps soldiers moving back to give him room. He expected to be grabbed, perhaps even chained, but to his surprise one of the soldiers waved a hand at him as if he was a stray dog they were trying to shoo away.
“I can go?” he said. “Go where?”
One of the soldiers barked something at him in Mandarin.
“Where’s Lin Mae?” he asked. “Lin Mae? Wang?”
The soldiers conferred among themselves, then one of them jabbed a finger downwards, as though pointing vaguely at the floor.
William knew what the man meant. Lin Mae, or Wang, or maybe both, were out on the Wall. He began to jog in that direction, his mind whirling. To be freed from his cell and apparently given the run of the fortress—essentially to be granted a free pardon. What was going on?
When he stepped out of the tower exit on to the top of the Wall, he was shocked by the scene of devastation before him. He stood for a moment, trying to take it in. The desert beyond the Wall was strewn with wreckage. There were burning balloons, like vast, crumpled animal skins, there were smashed gondolas, and there were twisted, blackened bodies. Not only that, but some of the balloons had clearly lost control as soon as they had lifted off, and had either blown back against the towers or exploded directly overhead. A huge, burning balloon skin was draped over the parapet less than thirty feet away, a cloud of black, stinking smoke rising from it and curling into the night. Drooping from the top of the Northern Tower, from which he had just emerged, was a smashed and smoldering gondola, a body, which had been twisted in its severed ropes, dangling beneath it like a charred puppet.
There were other bodies, or parts of bodies, lying around on the plaza area directly in front of him too, as well as a great many unidentifiable bits of twisted, burning debris. He looked to his right, but with the smoke and the darkness it was hard to see if anyone was still alive out here. And then, through a greasy pall of smoke, he saw someone moving, and he started heading in their direction, picking his way through the grisly obstacle course that lay between them. The smoke cleared for a moment, and he saw the figure was not a soldier but a small man in dark, simple robes and a brimless hat.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Wang! What happened? Wait!”
But if Wang heard him, he chose not to acknowledge him.
William coughed to shift a tickle of smoke in his throat and shouted again, louder this time.
And this time Wang did stop and turn. His face was white and drawn. He looked both haunted and impatient.
As if unsurprised to see William there, he said, “We have failed. The Tao Tei are in the city.”
William looked at him, stunned. “What? How?”
But Wang ignored his question. Like the Bear Corps warrior a few minutes earlier, he wafted a dismissive hand, as though shooing away a troublesome animal. “You are free. Free to leave. Take what you wish and go. This was the General’s final order.” As though as an afterthought, he gave a short bow. “Good luck to you.”
William stared at him, wide-eyed. Final order? What did Wang mean? Once again he took in the carnage around them: the bodies, the burning debris, both here and strewn across the desert. In the night sky, far away, in the direction of Bianliang, he saw winking flames. More balloons? Those that hadn’t crashed and burned? That were still heading towards the city?
When he turned back, Wang was walking away. William saw that further along the Wall, in a space that had been cleared of debris, a final balloon was being inflated.
“Where is she?” he called.
Wang kept walking.
“Hey!” William broke into a run, going after him. He thought of reaching out, grabbing Wang’s shoulder, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Lin Mae? Where is she?”
Wang stopped and sighed. He turned to face William again. Gesturing at the sky he said wearily, “Out there somewhere. Who knows?”
“Has she gone to fight? Is there still a fight to be had?”
Wang shrugged and turned away again, his face exhausted, defeated.
William ran past him, around him, halted directly in front of him and actually did put out a hand to stop him this time. Before Wang could react he said, “Tell me—is there a chance?”
“To win? You mean, do I have a plan?”
William nodded.
“We must kill the Queen. Kill the Queen or die together.” The little man shrugged, grimaced, as though to convey how utterly hopeless the situation was. “So if I were you, I would make haste and be gone. Tell the world what you have seen. Tell them what is coming.”
William heard footsteps behind him, felt hands grabbing his arms, pulling him away from Wang. They weren’t overly rough with him, but they weren’t gentle either. Wang gave him a sympathetic look, then hurried towards the balloon. It was three-quarters inflated now. There was just time for him to climb aboard before it drifted away.
“I’ll need my bow,” William shouted at Wang’s retreating figure.
Wang’s shoulders twitched briefly—he had clearly heard—but he kept walking.
William raised his voice. “If I’m to join you, I’ll need my bow!”
Wang stopped, turned. There was a look of astonishment on his face.
“What?” he said quietly, nodding at William’s captors to release him.
William walked forward. He smiled. “Be honest,” he said softly. “Have you a better soldier than me?”
* * *
At least he was still alive, which had to be a good sign. If they’d simply wanted to rob him, they’d have killed him there and then, and left his body in the sand for the vultures and wolves to eat. But the fact they’d bound him and brought him along for the ride meant… what? That they wanted to take him somewhere? Question him?
Torture him?
No, no, he wouldn’t countenance that. He’d win their trust somehow; make them understand how invaluable he’d be as an ally, how much they could help each other.
Lying on his side on the sand, Ballard squirmed, trying to get comfortable. His feet had been tied together, his hands bound tightly behind him, and a thick wad of brightly-colored but filthy material had been crammed into his mouth, then secured with a strip of brown cloth that stank of sweat and worse. He tensed as a scorpion scuttled towards him from behind a nearby rock, seemed to regard him for a moment, its pincers poised and its sting raised like a question mark above its head, and then, when he twitched, darted away.
Fifteen feet in front of Ballard, just close enough that the warmth of it took the edge off the cold night air, was a freshly built camp fire. Two of the three brigands who had captured him were now sitting around it, warming themselves and roasting lumps of meat on metal skewers. The third brigand was some distance away, tethering the six horses tightly together. He was the youngest of the trio, with a full set of teeth and only a straggle of facial hair.
Ballard had come to think of this man as Brigand 3; he was very much the junior member of the group and performed most of the menial tasks. Brigand 1, who was now biting into the fatty meat on the e
nd of his skewer, making slobbering noises as he chewed, was plump and sweaty with a growling voice. Brigand 2, sitting beside him, was older, skinny and almost toothless. He had a full beard and a jagged red scar down the left side of his face. All three men stank of unwashed flesh and were dressed in dark robes over layers of rags. Ballard had seen them laugh, but only at his discomfort. Most of the time they conversed in guttural, staccato phrases that he didn’t understand.
He was hoping that once they removed his gag so that he could eat—which they surely must at some point—he could talk to them, draw them into his confidence. They were unintelligent, uneducated men. Like Pero, they would be malleable, easy to manipulate. All he had to do was bide his time…
His eyes widened in concern as Brigand 3 trudged back over to the camp fire carrying a couple of Ballard’s saddlebags, which he had removed from the pack horse. Ballard knew that the saddlebags contained Wang’s copious notes about black powder, as well as various black powder based weapons and, of course, large quantities of the stuff itself.
He was worried enough about the notes—he’d need them if he was going to make a long-term profit from his windfall—but what made him far more anxious was the prospect of large quantities of black powder so close to the fire. If it wasn’t handled with care they could all be blown to Kingdom Come. But how could he communicate such information to these primitive savages in his current state? He wriggled like a worm on the ground, making frantic sounds in the back of his throat to draw their attention. Brigand 3, firelight playing across his face and across the leather saddlebags he was carrying, glanced his way briefly, but then turned his head dismissively away and sat down next to his companions.
Ballard watched in horror as Brigand 3 opened the first of the saddlebags and began to scrabble at the contents. He pulled out Wang’s notes with abandon, tearing the delicate parchment, glanced at them a moment, and then—clearly unable to read or understand them—tossed them away. Some of the rolls of parchment landed on the sand nearby, some were picked up and blown into the surrounding darkness by the wind, and some drifted into the camp fire, where they shriveled and were quickly consumed.
