Daylight on Iron Mountain (38 page)

T
he sky was a solid lid of grey above the drill yard, a fine mist of rain falling steadily through the tall lighting stanchions that flooded the ancient cobbles with actinic light.

It was barely ten in the morning, but more than a thousand had already gathered. They stood there now, their kitbags – containing four days’ provisions – slung over their shoulders, looking on as the slow trickle of arrivals became a flood. A great queue of men lining up to sign the huge, leather-bound roster ledgers that lay open on the trestle table in the far corner of the yard, beneath the awning.

There, on an old campaign chair Jiang Lei himself had left him, a grizzled sergeant watched as each man bent to sign the ancient book. He knew each one, greeting them by name and grinning fiercely, pleased to see so many of the old guard responding to the muster.

Even he had to admit that they were a motley-looking bunch, some longhaired, some shaven, some – and in this they showed their years – looking more like monks than hardened fighters. But he knew better than to go by appearance. There were no men he would rather fight alongside than these. No one he would trust more. When things had got tough in America, these men had delivered. Twenty years ago now, but that didn’t matter. They were still some of the toughest fighting men the world had ever produced. Finns and Danes. Norwegians, Swedes and Russians. Big men. Hard men. Men whose distant ancestors had once struck terror throughout Europe,
voyaging,
a-vykingr
, in their long boats. Now they would have their day.

Word was coming in of attacks on some of those who were making their way in. Of ambushes and attempts to scare men off, but they seemed to be having little effect. The men had waited years for this call, and now they came, throwing together their kit and hurrying off to Bremen by the quickest means possible.

Many a one who had not seen his old comrades in long years now greeted them with open arms. Yet behind the laughter, behind those heartfelt smiles was a grim sense of purpose. They were here for a reason. To finish what they had begun all those years ago.

Which was why they stood there now, raindrops glistening in their hair, the men forming up in their old Banners and awaiting orders. Some had not come, those who were sick or who had died in the intervening years, but they were very few. If they could limp or hop or crawl they were there. For duty’s sake.

Where the big roster ledgers had been these past twenty years was a mystery. Many had thought them destroyed, after the Northern Banners had been disbanded. But here they were, and as each new arrival signed their name, so, in their eyes, something was reborn. Banned by law from being soldiers, they had found other occupations that had complemented soldiering. They had become cooks, or medics, had joined Security or taken jobs in engineering; even so, the years between had been like a dream.

This
was what they’d been created for.
This
.

Each man knew what a risk he took with his life, just being there, but not one among them would have thought not to come. They were there because they had to be. Because it was ordered thus. It was why most of them had kept in shape all these years, spending long hours in the gym. Looking around at them, there was nothing flabby, nothing middle-aged about the men.

Tsao Ch’un… There had always been a problem with Tsao Ch’un. It wasn’t he they had fought for all those years ago. They had fought for their marshals, and for their pride – because they were who they were. Only once it was done they had felt let down. They had been paid, certainly, but they hadn’t been
rewarded
. What Tsao Ch’un owed them had never been acknowledged, and that had rankled with them all these years. When they’d met, in twos and threes, they had often said as much. Yes, and got into trouble with
the Ministry over it, but now it was out in the open. They were here to air their grievance in the only way they knew how.

This was what they were good at. What they did best. And the devil take the man who underestimated them.

To fight Tsao Ch’un. That was why they’d come. To put things straight. To get their just reward at long last. And to free Chung Kuo from tyranny.

From the balcony, high above the drill yard, the six great men looked on.

‘See… I told you they would come.’

It was one of the old marshals, the grey-headed Svensson, who said it, his eyes burning with pride at the sight of the men gathering down below.

‘I never doubted it,’ Shepherd answered him, ‘in fact, I
counted
on it.’

Li Chao Ch’in glanced at him at that, then looked away again. The T’ang seemed fascinated by events, and genuinely surprised by how many had already come. It was, after all, only an hour since they’d sent out the summons.

‘I was with them… in America…’ Shepherd said.

It was an obvious thing to say, for they all knew of his role as advisor to Jiang Lei, but he felt he had to say it. To
remind
them.

‘I was surprised,’ another of the marshals, Raikkonen said, his steel-grey eyes fixing Shepherd. ‘I thought you were his man.’

‘And so I was. Yet I always knew this day would come. It was why I helped establish the Seven. To ensure stability.’

‘Is that why you’re here?’ Li Chao Ch’in asked. ‘For stability?’

Shepherd laughed. ‘What you really mean is, do I think we can win? Well, the truth is, I don’t know. But the Northern Banners will give us a chance. That is, if they all turn out.’

‘They will come,’ Raikkonen said, and his fellow marshals nodded.

‘Good… Then, as I said, we have a chance. The thing is this… whatever happens now, this day could not have been avoided. It’s a mistake to think it could. Whatever might have triggered it, we would always have had to fight Tsao Ch’un eventually, because a single man cannot rule an entire planet, no matter how many sons or loyal servants he has. Eventually it would have proved unviable, for a single man is mortal, while seven families…’

Li Chao Ch’in stared at him, horrified.

‘You mean, you
knew
this would happen?’

Shepherd rested his hands on the balcony wall, looking down at the thousands who had already gathered. The queue before the roster ledgers seemed to have grown even in the last five minutes.

‘Of course. But if you had known that, you would have done everything in your power to avoid it. Isn’t that the truth?’

Li Chao Ch’in hesitated. ‘Maybe…’

‘Seven families, ruling by consensus. That was always my intention.’

‘And Tsao Ch’un?’

‘Was a means of getting to that. Perhaps the only means. His ruthlessness… it was the necessary factor. That uncompromising nature of his. Kinder, more rational men – men like yourself, Lord Li – they don’t have what it takes to conquer a world. But they do have the qualities necessary to rule it.’

‘And is that what we’re doing here?’ Marshal Bakke, the youngest of the four marshals asked. ‘Fulfilling your plan?’

‘If you like… only…’ Shepherd turned, looking back at them. ‘Well… it was all quite vague. I must confess I was wrong-footed by this. However, like our friend, the First Dragon, I have thought long and hard about this eventuality. My only
real
surprise was that it hadn’t happened before now. I had begun to think that maybe Tsao Ch’un would weather the storm, that we would face this crisis ten years down the line. That we’d be forced into a war against his sons. But now that it’s come…’

‘You don’t have a plan,’ Bakke said, grinning at him. ‘Right?’

Shepherd nodded, smiled. ‘I thought we might just…
improvise
.’

Li Chao Ch’in looked from one man to the other. ‘But I thought…’ He stopped, then nodded. ‘He’ll send his armies against us, won’t he? The Seven, I mean… because if he kills
us
, it’s over…’

‘Yes,’ Shepherd said quietly. ‘So we have to prevent that. Have to prolong the struggle. Because the longer it goes on, the better chance we have of winning. And right now we need to come up with a strategy. We can’t keep the troops here, in a single block. That’s far too vulnerable. So decisions need to be made.’

‘And will be,’ Raikkonnen said, looking about him at his fellows.

Shepherd looked to Li Chao Ch’in. ‘Did you know that he sent you a present? Or rather, that he meant to. A new concubine. It was his way of saying sorry. Only then your man went to see him.’

‘My man?’

Shepherd explained. When he had done, Li Chao Ch’in had a solemn look.

‘So close…’

‘True. But look at it this way. His anger has given us a chance. That and the incompetence of his sons.’

‘And the Northern Banners?’ Raikkonen asked. ‘How are we going to deploy them?’

‘That’s up to you,
ch’un tzu
. Only we must survive these first twenty-four hours. That’s crucial. After that…’

He shrugged expressively.

‘
Shih
Shepherd?’

‘Yes, Marshal Svensson?’

‘Are you not afraid of him? Of what he might do if he gets his hands on you?’

‘Terrified. But he won’t.’

Li Chao Ch’in looked at Shepherd again, then looked away, giving a little shudder. The thought of what Tsao Ch’un might do to
him
quite clearly unnerved the man. His hands shook at the thought of it.

Shepherd looked down. In that brief instant he had seen that Li Chao Ch’in was not as brave as he. It was there, in his eyes. The man lacked courage. Or was that being unfair? Wasn’t it simply good sense to fear Tsao Ch’un? He was, after all, a complete psychopath. Whatever, he would have to watch Lord Li. If he, or any of them, lost their nerve…

‘Lord Li,’ he said, reaching out to touch his arm, ‘take heart. We
shall
prevail.’

Only he could see that Li Chao Ch’in did not believe him. That, in his head, he had already lost.

The thought appalled him.

So much for all my vain ambitions…

Maybe. Only he for one would not give up. Not until there was no hope left whatsoever. Because it was true what he had said. They did not have a choice. They could either fight Tsao Ch’un now, or his sons later.

‘Come,’ he said, looking to the others. ‘Let us go down. Our men are awaiting their orders.’

*

Yet even as they spoke, even as the veterans mustered, the war was escalating. In the skies to the east of Bremen, Security air forces loyal to the Seven found themselves fighting Tsao Ch’un’s air forces in a battle for the skies. Outnumbered three to one, they nonetheless fought off their adversaries, and, though a few craft got through and inflicted damage on the North European stacks, as yet Bremen and its surroundings were unscathed.

The first round had gone to the rebels.

On the propaganda front, Tsao Ch’un had appointed a new First Dragon – his own man, Chang Yu – who quickly re-established control over the media. But the impact of those first few hours, when the news had been reported openly, had left their mark, and there were riots and mass demonstrations in a number of places; disturbances that the Security forces for once were loath to put down. The most serious were in America where native resentment over their defeat and consequent subjugation had never quite died out. There were major revolts in Memphis in the south and in Portland in the north-west, along with minor outbreaks in Chicago, Boston and Monterrey. Intent on tracking down Wu Hsien and his family, Tsao Ch’un would in other circumstances have ignored these, only he knew that not to deal with them would in all likelihood have major implications. Since Wu Hsien himself was clearly not going to intervene, he had sent in several elite battalions to firefight.

None of which had helped.

It was late morning now, and Tsao Ch’un was at his command centre in the Black Tower. Normally he would have summoned his advisors, only his advisors were now his enemies; thus he sat there, alone, mulling over what needed to be done.

It was while he was sitting there, brooding over the matter, that news came in of the capture of Tongjiang.

He stood, looking up at the screens, which were filled with images of the palace burning; of servants and family members being loaded onto cruisers, their hands bound, their heads bowed.

Tsao Ch’un grinned ferociously, then ordered that the images be sent on – for Li Chao Ch’in to see.

Then, from the same source, came even greater news – visual evidence of the death of Fan Li and his mother, the two of them butchered in the cellar in which they’d been hiding.

Tsao Ch’un whooped, elated by the news.

By the end of the day he planned to have reduced them even further. To have whittled them away to nothing.

‘I will erase you one by one… all trace of you… see if I don’t…’

Spurred on by the news from Tongjiang, he sent an order to his eldest son to increase his efforts to find Wu Hsien and his brood. He knew they could not have gone far, and if he could eradicate
them
, then the pressure would be immense on the remaining five.

He smiled at the thought. Yes, he would have them brought here, to his dungeons and make them pay personally for their audacity. He would pluck off their fingernails and burn out their eyes… and other things.

Right now, however, he had other problems, chief of which was preparing his Banner armies to fight.

He let a long, sighing breath escape him. At any other time he might have raged at the situation – have thrown a fit and cracked a head or two together. Only the fault was his. He had been too soft in recent years. Too complacent. He had not prepared for this, and now he was paying the cost.

Back in the old days he would have had his Banners out there within the hour – two hours at most. There in the field, fully supplied with sufficient food and ammunition for three days and the means to resupply at short notice. Only these weren’t the old days, and his Banners had grown fat, his officers corrupt. As for his troops, they were poorly trained and totally inexperienced. He ought to have purged the Banners years ago, only it had slipped his mind, and now it was too late.