The Great Wall

by Mark Morris

  Meanwhile William, Lin Mae, Wang and one of the Bear Corps warriors fashioned an elaborate harness of chains and leather bindings. As soon as the Tao Tei was in place, they fastened the harness tightly around its neck and arms. On the front of the harness was a pouch, designed to nestle snugly against the creature’s chest, made from a piece of canvas torn from one of the felled balloons, into which they carefully placed the magnet. That done, Peng Yong dragged the makeshift silk pouch, containing its arsenal of black powder weapons, up to the cart and quickly unwrapped it. He began to hand the grenades to William one by one, who, together with Wang and Lin Mae, knotted them tightly to the chains attached to the harness. As they were doing that, two Bear Corps soldiers appeared from an arched entranceway, wheeling forward another cart, this one piled up with meat—whole hogs, sides of beef, stacks of plucked and headless chickens.

  Once the bulk of the work was done, the last few minutes were spent in a flurry of final preparations. Soldiers checked their swords and lances; torches were lit; Wang fussily re-checked the harness around the Tao Tei, tightening knots here and there. William strapped an ignition device—one of Wang’s inventions—to his arm, while Lin Mae, standing beside him, tightened her ropes and the scabbard containing her sword. All around them was a babble of voices, of steel weapons sliding into sheaths, of ropes creaking. In the midst of it, William looked up, to find that Lin Mae too was raising her head, turning to him. She hesitated a moment, and then said, “I was wrong about you.”

  William smiled. “No. You knew me right away.”

  She smiled back at him, but hers was an ironic smile, even a little bitter. “If I had been right, you would not be here.”

  “I’m not here,” he said. When she frowned in puzzlement he explained, “The man who first arrived at the Wall is not here. I’m not him any more. I’m someone else now.”

  Before she could reply, they were distracted by the creaking sound of a door opening on the far side of the courtyard. Both of them looked across to see the Imperial Officer pushing his torch forward into a dark entrance, illuminating a slope leading downward. William and Lin Mae watched as Wang and the Imperial Officer conferred for a moment, Wang nodding curtly. As Lin Mae translated what they were saying, explaining to William that beyond the door was a tunnel leading under the Palace complex, Wang marched back to a group of soldiers, who were waiting on the far side of the courtyard, and who had been chosen to stay behind as a last line of defense.

  “We need all the time you can buy us,” he said.

  As one, the small band of soldiers, fronted by two Eagle Corps warriors in filthy, battered armour, bowed in obedience, their faces masks of duty and grim determination.

  Wang called together the procession that were undertaking the journey into the tunnel, and seconds later they set off. He and the Imperial Officer led the way, the Officer holding up a torch to light the route ahead. Directly behind them came two Bear Corps warriors, grunting with effort as they pushed the meat cart. Following them were Lin Mae and Peng Yong, both of whom, like the Officer, also brandished torches. Then came the three biggest and burliest warriors that the Nameless Order had at their disposal, all of whom wore black Bear Corps armour, and all of whom panted and strained and sweated as they maneuvered the heavy cart holding the recumbent Tao Tei through the tunnels. And finally, bringing up the rear of the group, came William, their last line of defense.

  As the heavy door swung shut behind them, he glanced back, watching the block of daylight between door and frame become narrower until finally it disappeared. Now all they had to combat the darkness were their flickering torches, which threw strange, wavering shadows up and down the walls. Their journey had only just begun, and already the tunnel felt hot and stuffy, the air pungent with the stink of raw meat and the Tao Tei’s musky flesh.

  William wondered what the next few hours would bring, whether this would be his last day on earth. He was all too aware he could be with Pero now, riding free across the desert plains, his saddlebags stuffed with black powder. But he had no regrets. He knew if he was given his time over again, he would still choose to be here—fighting alongside Lin Mae and the Nameless Order. Fighting for a cause that, for the first and only time in his life, actually mattered.

  * * *

  The door to the now empty Main Hall crashed open and the Tao Tei flooded in, their black talons scoring long grooves across the highly polished wooden floor. They crashed into pillars, knocked over pedestals, smashed vases and priceless statues, and tore down hanging silks with their claws and teeth.

  Some of them swarmed up the steps to the Imperial throne, demolishing the delicate, ornamental balustrades at the sides. They sniffed at the throne and then around it, and then at the bottom of the steps. Their tiny eyes glinted; their maws opened, lips curling back from their rows of teeth, and they let loose a series of shrieks.

  They had picked up a scent.

  * * *

  The defensive guard around the courtyard door numbered sixteen soldiers. Thirteen were from what remained of the Imperial Guard, and the other three were from what remained of the Nameless Order. Of the three Nameless Order soldiers, two were Eagle Corps warriors, standing at the front of the group with their bows armed and ready, and the other, standing just behind them with an axe in one hand and a mallet in the other, was from the Bear Corps.

  None of the men spoke to one another. None of them shifted from their positions. They stood stoic and resolute, waiting for the enemy.

  Waiting to fight and die.

  * * *

  The tunnel was hot and dark and seemingly endless.

  Torches flickered. Muscles strained. Sweat poured. Wheels turned.

  Silently, determinedly, they went on.

  * * *

  The silence in the courtyard was suddenly shattered by a sound that was distant, though no less terrifying for it. It was a shrill and hideous screech. Wordless, and yet full of rage and hate and awful, endless hunger.

  The men in the courtyard stirred. The Imperial soldiers clutched the hilts of their swords with trembling hands; the Bear Corps warrior took a firmer grip on his axe and mallet; the Eagle Corps warriors drew back the strings of their bows, their focus absolute, their arms rock steady.

  Another cry rent the air, closer this time, and was then quickly followed by another, and another. And now the men in the courtyard heard the thump of myriad feet, like the far-off rumble of approaching thunder.

  The enemy were on their way.

  * * *

  There was light up ahead, Lin Mae was sure of it. It was difficult to tell with the flickering firelight of the Imperial Officer’s torch limning the rocky walls, but all the same she was certain she could see the faint glimmer of a different light beyond that—one that was softer, purer, more natural.

  Was this new light coming from above? Yes, she was sure it was. She felt a pang of alarm as she wondered what could be causing it. Was it coming from a breach in the ceiling that had been created by the Tao Tei? Could their enemy have become tactically aware enough to anticipate their plan and intercept them?

  But no. As they neared the light, she saw it was coming from a row of four open iron grates, like barred windows, set into the low ceiling of the next section of tunnel. The corridor broadened out a little here, and looked more man-made. The Imperial Officer turned and held up a hand, instructing them all to halt. When the wheels of the carts had creaked to a stop, he indicated a longer, darker section of tunnel that lay beyond the grated section directly ahead.

  “That’s where we’re heading for,” he said. “Fifty more paces will bring us to the cellar of the East Pagoda.”

  He turned away, holding up his torch, and again they began to move forward, the wheels of the two carts rumbling back to life. Lin Mae glanced over her shoulder at William, who was helping the now weary Bear Corps warriors push the Tao Tei cart the last fifty paces. She saw him glance up at the first of the grilles set into the ceiling—and then she saw him freez
e. She glanced up too, following his gaze. Close to the grilles—no more than a few feet away—she saw movement.

  At first the light filtering from above was too bright for her to make out what was causing it. But then her vision adjusted and she drew in a sharp breath. So close she could have reached up and touched it had the grating not been there, she saw a mass of shifting green flesh, interspersed with brief flashes of black taloned claws and glistening white teeth.

  The area directly above their heads was teeming with Tao Tei!

  Eyes widening, she looked at William. Casting a warning glance at the Imperial Officer at the head of the group with Wang at his side, he leaned forward and whispered, “Eyes forward! Keep moving! Tell them!”

  But no sooner were the words out of his mouth than the Imperial Officer glanced up at the grating above his head—and froze in terror. He came to an abrupt halt, causing the rest of the procession to stop again too.

  There was snuffling and grunting now from above, a new eagerness and awareness among the Tao Tei. Whether the creatures had seen their flickering torchlight, or heard their rumbling carts, or perhaps simply caught their scent Lin Mae had no idea, but all at once the light from above grew dimmer as the creatures moved across to press eyes and snouts against the grates. Next moment scrabbling talons appeared through the gaps between the bars and drool thick as candle wax began to drip down on them.

  Wang gave the Imperial Officer a shove in the back and hissed sharply, “Press on! We’re almost there!”

  The Imperial Officer looked at him, his face stark with terror, and then, with an effort, managed to recover himself. He gave a sharp nod and lurched forward, his movements jerky and panicked, the torchlight veering this way and that.

  As they hurried through the long tunnel as fast as they could, the activity above them grew yet more frenzied. The shafts of daylight leaking in from overhead became fewer, and then were blotted out completely, as the Tao Tei crammed forward, turning the gaps between the bars into a slavering, hissing mass of squirming green flesh. More talons poked through, scrabbling at them, causing them to duck their heads. Lin Mae felt alarm lurch inside her as the grilles began to creak and bend under the intense pressure exerted by the weight of dozens of Tao Tei bodies. She felt an urge to run, but the carts were too heavy to push at anything more than walking pace.

  Suddenly, in front of Lin Mae, there was a splintering crack and one of the grilles gave way. Instantly a Tao Tei arm burst through into the tunnel, long talons sinking into the shoulder of one of the Bear Corps warriors pushing the meat cart and plucking him up through the gap in the ceiling as easily as a child might pluck a crab from a rock pool. The soldier gave a short scream of agony and then he was gone, his shield, which was too big to fit through the gap, clattering to the floor, followed almost immediately by a pattering rain of blood.

  Before anyone could react, a second grille burst open and a second Tao Tei arm reached in and plucked away another of the Bear Corps warriors. Then, in quick succession, several more massive green arms swiped down and grabbed the remainder of the soldiers, one of them snagging the shoulder of Peng Yong’s armour with its pincer-like talons and hauling him upwards.

  Peng Yong screamed and struggled, his legs kicking wildly as he was dragged towards the drooling mass of Tao Tei. Lin Mae had been unable to act swiftly enough to prevent the sudden and shocking deaths of the rest of her soldiers, but now she tugged her grappling hook from her waistband and instinctively threw it.

  The hook flew straight and true, the chain wrapping around the Tao Tei’s wrist like a metal shackle, the four prongs of the hook itself securing themselves around the bent and twisted bars of the damaged grille. This clamped the Tao Tei’s arm in place, at least temporarily, and prevented it from dragging Peng Yong up through the rent in the ceiling.

  Lin Mae knew it would only be a matter of time, however, before the Tao Tei managed to yank itself free. Behind her she was peripherally aware of William running forward, dipping down. She turned just in time to see him snatch up the blood-spattered shield of one of the dead Bear Corps warriors, turn it sideways and hurl it like a discus.

  The shield, spinning like a top, flew with such speed and ferocity, that it severed the Tao Tei’s arm cleanly at the wrist. As Peng Yong dropped to the floor, the taloned claw still hooked in the shoulder of his armour, the Tao Tei let out a bellowing scream of agony. With green, foul smelling blood gushing from it and splashing over Peng Yong, the creature’s arm retracted through the breach in the ceiling. Lin Mae knew, though, that the Tao Tei’s injury would not prevent others of its kind from trying to get at them.

  “Stay low!” she shouted as she, William and Wang rushed forward to retrieve her grappling hook and check on Peng Yong.

  The three of them crowded round the young Bear Corps warrior, who was slumped against the wall, his face contorted in agony. Carefully William lifted aside the mangled, blood-spattered flaps of armour and cloth at Peng Yong’s shoulder and examined the wound beneath.

  “You’ll have one hell of a scar,” he said. “But you’ll live.”

  Quickly Lin Mae translated William’s words. Peng Yong nodded weakly, his face ashen.

  William could tell that the young man, though not mortally wounded, was in no state to jump to his feet and return to the fray just yet – and they had no time to wait for him to recover.

  “We’ll come back for him,” he said to Lin Mae.

  She hesitated a moment, then gave a decisive nod.

  It was much harder going now that the rest of the soldiers were dead, but with William, Lin Mae and Wang putting their all into getting the two heavy carts down the tunnel, they creaked and rumbled slowly onward.

  * * *

  With a thundering clatter of clawed feet and a chorus of enraged, ear-splitting screams, the Tao Tei poured into the courtyard. Instantly the Eagle Corps warriors began to unleash their arrows, their hands a blur of motion as they loaded and fired. The Bear Corps warrior gave a roar of his own and waded fearlessly into the fray, swinging his axe and mallet. Even the Imperial Guards, unused to combat, fought bravely, slashing and hacking with their swords.

  In spite of their courage, however, the battle was over in seconds, the soldiers managing to dispatch only a few Tao Tei before they were overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers. There was a brief, mad, dark swirling blur of green flesh and blood and screams, and then the Tao Tei were smashing the heavy wooden door from its hinges and flooding into the tunnel.

  * * *

  The fifty paces to the pagoda cellar entrance were the longest of William’s life. Together with Lin Mae and Wang, he hauled and heaved at the two carts, edging them inch by inch towards their destination.

  Eventually they crossed the threshold of the long tunnel into what appeared to be a small junction chamber. Directly ahead of them, on the far side of the chamber, an arched opening framed a set of wide, stone steps leading upwards. To their left, set at an angle, was a wet, dripping, spillway tunnel, the ceiling of which, some distance ahead, was inset with more of the grates through which daylight poured like a line of misty white ghosts. From what William had seen of the layout of the Palace grounds from the air, he suspected that this tunnel stretched towards the North Gate steps.

  “Here,” Wang gasped, stepping back from the cart. His dark robes were crumpled and smeared with grime, and his face shone with sweat.

  He looked exhausted, in need of a rest, but William knew there was no time. He was about to reply when, from back down the tunnel, they heard the triumphant screeching roar of the Tao Tei.

  All three of them looked at one another, then swung round. In the far distance, beyond Peng Yong’s slumped form, they saw flashes of green, rippling shadows, the suggestion of movement.

  “They’ve broken through!” Lin Mae cried despairingly.

  “Do it now,” William said to Wang. His words were punctuated by another echoing screech, this one a little closer.

  “We need more time,” sa
id Wang, his voice desperate.

  “Look!” gasped Lin Mae.

  William turned to see Peng Yong staggering to his feet. The young man clutched the black powder weapons he had been issued with to his body and touched the fuse of one to the ignition device attached to his wrist. As it fizzed into life, he turned to look back at him, his eyes steady in his waxy, sweating face. He said something in a quiet, calm voice, and although they were too far away to hear his words, the message was clear. Peng Yong was both resigned to his fate and determined to do his duty.

  The boy had finally become a man.

  23

  “'Turn away!” William yelled, waving his arms.

  Wang and Lin Mae did so just in time. The next second there was a massive explosion, and William was swept off his feet and thrown forward by a buffeting wave of heat.

  The tunnel filled with debris and dust. For a minute or more, lying on his belly, he couldn’t see anything. He sat up gingerly, coughing and spluttering, waving his hands in front of his face. He brushed at his clothes, which were covered in rubble and fine white powder.

  Somewhere close to him, through the haze of dust, he heard Lin Mae and Wang coughing too. The sound was muffled, as though his ears were packed with sand. Still coughing, he clambered to his feet and walked a little way back down the tunnel, towards the site of the explosion. As the dust settled and the air became clearer, he realized that the grated section through which they had passed earlier was now completely blocked by a dark mass of pulverized stone. He listened hard, but though his ears were still throbbing he was pretty sure that the bellowing cries of the Tao Tei had now been silenced. He couldn’t even hear scratching or scuffling from the other side of the rockfall.

  Peng Yong had done it. By sacrificing himself he had given them the most precious thing of all.

  Time.