The Stone Road (14 page)

There was a thump and the wall under Zhou's feet shook. This time it was not from a stone crashing into the wall. In the mirror, Yaart troops pin-wheeled into the air, thrown up and out by an explosion of noise and flame. There were three more explosions along the Yaart line and a billowing cloud of dirt obscured Zhou's view. When it cleared he could see that they still marched on.

“Line two,” and he continued to watch the scene unfold.

From the ground, two giant figures rose, statues of the rock and mud. They tore themselves free of the earth which had given birth to them and began to march towards the line of Yaart troops. Now came screams from the fields as the golems began to stomp and swing at the enemy soldiers. Those unlucky enough to be in their path were killed quickly and bloodily. The Yaart line wavered, faltered and was checked by this onslaught. Yaart troops clustered around the legs of the beasts, flailing, stabbing and dying.

Then from the clear sky, grey clouds gathered above the golems and rain fell heavily upon them. At first there was no impact, but the deluge did not stop. The downpour soaked into their skin and they began to slow and stumble as the dirt they were made of became heavy with water. Gullies formed as the run-off eroded the golems’ mud brown flesh. The gullies deepened to canyons, arteries of water in their arms, legs and torso. As the monsters came to a standstill they began to break apart, arms hung loose and with the sound of tearing they fell to the ground. Soon, both golems were mere piles of stone on the ground that had birthed them. The army marched on.

“Line three,” Zhou whispered with hope in his voice.

Under the feet of the advancing Yaart soldiers, great geysers of superheated steam erupted. The Yaart troops screamed in ear-splitting agony as they were boiled alive inside their armour. The line halted again and the smell of cooking human flesh wafted over the city walls. Wubei troops, up and down the wall, gagged, spat and vomited.

Again clouds formed but this time a chill wind blew from them and a blizzard of snow fell to the ground. The troops caught in the snow storm were soon covered in ice and unable to move. The snow that reached the ground hissed and melted into puddles that then began to freeze. It continued to fall and now settle on the frozen surface. The steam geysers sputtered as the thick white blanket smothered them. The army marched on.

“Sergeant, keep the men down. Line four,” Zhou shouted.

Zhou took one last look at the encroaching army, by now not far from the walls. Then he flipped the mirror down and folded the thin metal rod, placing both in a pouch attached to his belt. The walls were shaking again but this time with the combined step of the enemy army and the rumbling wheels of the siege towers. Zhou knew what was coming and tucked his head low, wrapping his arms round his knees.

A great heat washed over him and he bit down on his lip to prevent a scream from escaping. His back burned and the bitter smell of burning hair insinuated itself up his nostrils. The outside of the city walls turned to flame. Yellow, orange and red, brighter than the clear summer’s sun the fire raged and there was a great outcry from beyond the walls. The smoke of cremated flesh rose towards the heavens.

The fire continued to burn and then, as before, clouds began to condense from the air. But, as fast as they formed they evaporated, the heat of the flames preventing them from coalescing. A war between the elements was being fought in the air above the walls and fire was winning. Soon the clouds disappeared and the fire still burned.

“We’re holding them, Sir,” the corporal shouted.

“Won’t hold them forever, Corporal,” the sergeant shouted back. “Keep your men ready.”

Zhou, with every ounce of his soul, would have liked to agree with the corporal but he knew the sergeant was right. He felt a change when it came. A cool breeze caressed his skin and pimples rose on his arms. The breeze turned into a wind that started to blow the fire back onto the walls, heating them. Stone began to pop and crack as it expanded under the inferno. The men backed away from the battlements. Now, above the fire, the clouds formed again and a heavy, driving rain began to fall on to the fire and blackened stones. Along the expanse of the wall, stones shattered and Zhou felt the wall shift as it cooled.

“Get them up, Sergeant. Arrows away and let’s see if we can thin their numbers a bit further,” Zhou shouted.

He peered over the battlements. The siege engines were, for the most part, untouched by the four lines of magical defences the city had used. The base of the wall, when he chanced a look down, was deep in ash. Black, grey and streaks of white, unburnt, bone formed a hideous beach over which the tide of Yaart men began to clamber.

Grappling hooks sailed up to hitch fast against the walls. Wubei troops unhooked them or, better still, slashed the ropes attached to them. Still the Yaart threw more and placed ladders against the walls. They began to climb, an army of ants clambering up the stems and branches of rope and wood. Behind them, the siege engines edged closer and closer. Arrows flew from both sides and men died. On the city walls, they fell backward to the ground below. Women rushed out to drag those who survived away to be treated, or to give the mercy of a quick end. On the field, those who fell were trampled by those still to come or crushed under the wheels of the towers. Zhou clenched down hard on the fear in his stomach; the charnel smell of cooked flesh, the unholy mixture of ash and blood, the sweat and taste of bile in his throat.

No one could revel in battle, he thought, where is the glory or honour in this?

Next to him, the corporal staggered back. A red-fletched arrow jutting out from his face, just below the rim of the helmet that was meant to protect him. Zhou caught him as he fell, stumbling under the limp weight. Lowering the corporal to the floor of the battlements, it was clear to Zhou that there was nothing to be done, the man was dead.

“Find peace, Corporal, and pave our way to the Jade kingdom,” Zhou whispered, then rolled and pushed the body off the battlements to the ground below. No point in leaving the dead to litter the place and trip the living, he thought.

“Here they come,” the sergeant’s voice cut through the noise and confusion.

The front of the siege tower, peppered with arrows, none of them aflame as the heavy rain had doused all of the precious fires, fell outwards towards the walls. Behind it, Yaart troops massed and as soon as the platform hit the city walls they poured over. All the while, Wubei arrows and javelins, darts and stones, thudded into them, casting many off the precarious bridge to add their bodies to the evil mixture at the base of the wall.

“Hold them back,” Zhou shouted as he took a fierce grip on his staff, “Hold them back.”

Wubei troops rushed past him and into the battle.

“For your lives, for your families, for Wubei!”

Chapter 18

Haung, crushed by other soldiers on the lower level, felt the siege tower shudder and then settle. He heard a great cry from above him and the thunder of many feet.

“Get ready, men. This is it,” he shouted at his troops, “Up top, cross the bridge and fight for every foot of wall. More will be behind us and they’ll need the room.”

With a throaty yell, the troops ran up the ramps and Haung followed them, light shield on his arm, and Jian sword in his grip. After the twilight inside the tower, the outside world was painfully bright and he squinted. His men were rushing for the bridge, climbing up, onto and across. Arrows from the Wubei wall were finding easy targets amongst them. Bodies fell from the bridge like raindrops.

He joined the throng of soldiers pushing their way across the bridge. Planting his shield in the back of the man in front he pushed, and felt the same happen to him. Rank meant nothing in the melee. The helmet covering his ears muffled all sound but still he was deafened by the cacophony of shouts and screams. Gritting his teeth, he continued to push and step by step the Wubei wall came closer until, quite suddenly, the siege tower bridge ended and he jumped down on to the battlements of the city.

Glancing left and right, he picked a direction, the one with the stairs closest, and started towards them. The footing was difficult, slippery on the stones, and soft on the bodies of the fallen. Ahead of him a Yaart soldier fell, a red crescent of blood spraying from his severed neck. Haung watched the body drop from the battlements to bounce, once, on the hard cobbles below. He turned back just in time to raise his shield and deflect the axe blow aimed at his head. The impact shot a river of pain up his arm and into his neck but, reacting without conscious thought, he stabbed the Jian sword out and into the armpit of the Wubei soldier. The body slid from his sword and he raised the shield once more, taking another step forward, facing another soldier. He ducked under the wild slash of a thick bladed sword and replied with a slicing cut to the soldier’s knees, forcing him to stagger backwards. Haung finished him off, thrusting his sword through the man's stomach and then knocking him over the battlements with his shield.

The next Wubei who faced up to him swung a short staff at his head. Haung lifted his shield again to deflect the blow and was rewarded by a thrusting foot crashing into his chest. He staggered backwards and narrowly avoided a second swing of the staff. Regaining his footing, he pushed forward, shield leading the way and covering the jab he made with the sword. The Wubei soldier parried it away with his staff but, before either man could renew the battle, arrows flicked up at them from the street below. Both men jumped back out of the way. Haung dropped to his knees and covered himself with his shield, feeling the arrows strike and bounce off. When he stood again, the other soldier was gone and the wall swarmed with Yaart soldiers.

He ran for the stairs and stumbled down them as fast as possible onto the street below. All around him, Yaart soldiers were running up the lanes and roads that led into the city proper. It was a riot of blood lust and confusion. The perfect time for it all to go wrong and get killed.

“To me, to me,” Haung shouted waving his sword in the air to attract attention. “Form up, men. Form up.”

He continued to call and gather a cohort of men about him until he figured he had enough for his needs.

“Right, we're going to head up the main road in a group, gather up any other men you can as we go. They’ll have defences rigged up, so we go together and look after each other,” he called to his new troop and, waving his sword again, led them off and up the road.

# # #

By nightfall, the roads were packed with Yaart soldiers, all scurrying about, this way and that. The city was on fire and the smoke of a civilisation destroyed rose to the clouds, ash drifted across the city. A sorrowful, dark fall of obscene snow.

“We control three quarters of the city. There are pockets of resistance in some places but we are confident they will be dealt with by midday tomorrow.” Commander Weyl was speaking to the assembled captains and other senior officers. “Wubei is finished as a power and as a province. Only the duke’s quarter holds out with any true force but
Fang-shi
Long is sure that he and his apprentices will have broken through by morning. We must be ready for that last push. Let the men have their night but by morning I want them formed up and ready. Re-establish military order and let’s end this war.” The commander paused and surveyed the soldiers before finishing, “Dismissed.”

As the officers filed away the commander beckoned Haung over, “Captain Haung, it is good to see that you survived,” Weyl began. “Your service as an officer ends now. I need the
Jiin-Wei
back. We have a lot to do tonight before the situation gets worse and the fires take the whole city. There are certain things we need.” The commander turned to the sorcerer who had stood silently next to him throughout the briefing, “Will all be ready on time?”

“My apprentices are working on the morning assault enchantment, they will be ready,”
Fang-shi
Long spoke in his deep confident voice.

“I appreciate that, Master Long, and I don’t want to disturb them at all. I've ordered the troops, such as we can command at the moment, to pull down houses, where needed, to create fire breaks. I don't want the city to burn to the ground. Not just yet.” Weyl shook his head. “The hours after a successful battle are never pleasant. The soldiers must be allowed to get it out of their systems. However, fire is an unpredictable beast and we need certain documents and personages found and brought to us safely. Likely, many are in the duke’s quarters but we must be sure.”

“Sir, what do you need me to do?” Haung asked.

“A simple task, Haung. I want you to find Hsin, if he lives, and bring him to us. I’d much prefer him alive, if possible, and we need him before the assault on the duke's quarter begins. Failing that, any high ranking officer or noble you come across. We need the information they hold about the final enchantment that the Wubei have placed on their interior walls if Master Long is to devise a counter to it.” Weyl looked into Haung’s eyes, “Do your best,
Jiin-Wei
.”

Haung bowed in response, turned and walked off into the darkness, past the line of elite soldiers who guarded the perimeter of the commander’s camp.

“Be careful out there, Captain, the men aren’t being too choosy,” one guard warned him.

“Thank you, Corporal,” Haung nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

Outside the camp, the city streets closed around him. Tall wooden buildings looked down on his foreign presence and he felt their hatred. Amongst the smell of burning wood and choking smoke, the sounds of fighting and the screams of the dying. He carried his sheathed sword in one hand as he walked the streets. At every corner he paused to listen carefully before he turned it. He followed the sound of fighting, seeking a live Wubei soldier who could be persuaded to give him the information he needed to find Hsin.

The cobbles were covered in the city people’s belongings. Smashed pottery, sheets of loose paper dancing in the wind kicked up by the fire, clothes strewn on the floor like puddles after a rain storm, pieces of furniture, whole and broken, houses turned inside out. Doors hung from bent hinges, kicked in or bashed down by rampaging soldiers. The dark shadows of the interior were the open maw of a monster and Haung could smell the iron tang of fresh blood on the air.

He stopped again, tilting his head to one side, listening for sounds of life. From the inside of one building he could hear something, indistinct but, perhaps, a sign of life. Haung took a small piece of paper from a belt pouch, traced a symbol on it with a charcoal smeared fingertip and spoke a quiet, enticing, melody of words. The smudged symbol began to glow and a small ball of light formed above it, the paper dissolving as the light brightened. Haung, with a small gesture, sent the ball of light past the door and into the dark house. There was a scream from inside.

Drawing his sword, Haung crept up to the door and slid inside, merging with the shadows. The source of the scream was illuminated by the conjured light-ball in the centre of the room. Haung took in the scene and felt all strength flee from muscles. His arms fell limp by his side and the tip of his sword struck the tiled floor with a bright clink.

From the rafters, two small bodies hung, rope tight round their necks, blackened tongues swelling from their mouths and sightless eyes staring into the void. Below the bodies of the two children, a naked woman, bruised body and bloody face sat staring at him. Blood pooled from between her knees and it was clear to Haung what had happened to her, and to her young children. She screamed again and again. Her eyes were desperate and disbelieving. Her claw fingered hands tore at her cheeks again and again. Ragged lines of blood dripped down her face, tears of madness and grief. Haung stared at her, unable to move.

Finally, conscious control of his muscles returned to him, “I won’t hurt you, I won’t hurt you,” he repeated to her in a calm voice as he sheathed his sword. Taking two steps into the light and lifting his empty hands in front of him, he said, “Let me help you.”

The woman shuffled backwards, screaming all the time, her eyes wild. He stepped forward again, and she moved backwards. Her back hit a dresser and she froze, nowhere left to go to.

“Let me help you,” Haung said and stepped forward again.

Suddenly, she screamed again and flew at him. Hands diving at his face, ragged and split fingernails raked at his face and he was forced to throw out a straight arm knocking her backwards.

“Stop. I don’t want to hurt you,” he spoke calmly, but she attacked again, screaming all the time.

He caught her wrists and, using his greater strength, pinned her arms behind her back. She continued to scream.

“Need any help, Captain?” A sly voice said from behind, followed by a few throaty chuckles, “We could do with a bit more fun tonight.”

Haung swung himself and screaming woman round to face the door. Three Yaart soldiers had come entered, attracted by the screaming.

“You did this already?” Haung asked, a vague but leading question, begging them to interpret it themselves.

“Not yet, Captain, but the night is young, eh?” More chuckling.

Haung spoke a quiet word and the ball of light flew like a javelin across the room to stop just inches from the spokesman’s face, “You will leave,” Haung let his voice deepen and growl, “and you will leave now. This one is mine, alone. Do you understand me or do I burn it into your eyeballs?”

The soldiers’ faces paled in aura of bright light and they fled.

Haung recalled the light to the centre of the room, illuminating the woman and her murdered children. With another word, he sent the burning ball up to the rafters where it burnt through the ropes holding the tiny bodies aloft. They fell to the floor in a loose heap of limbs. The woman sobbed and struggled to get free.

Haung released her and she gathered up her children in a mother’s embrace, crying with unleashed grief. Haung stood still for a few moments, watching the woman cradle her love and life in her arms. Any husband was likely to have been killed in the day's battle. What did she have left to live for, he wondered.

“I am so sorry,” he said softly, as he knelt down beside her.

She looked up, into his eyes. There was pain and loneliness in that look. A tormented soul that could no longer comprehend the world.

“I am so sorry,” he said in an honest voice. He reached out a tender hand and put it around her bare shoulder.

“There is nothing I can say to make this better for you,” he said with empathy in his words. He pulled her slowly in close as he slid the thin assassin blade through the skin on her back and into her heart in one graceful move. She gasped, and then folded over her lost children, “but I can bring an end to your pain. Forgive me.”