Soon many breaches were opening in the line of shields, despite the purple soldiers’ best efforts to maintain its integrity. When the Tao Tei did break through, the purple soldiers, aided by the black-armored bear soldiers and the blue-clad female crane troops, fought fiercely, the deer and crane soldiers with their swords, lances and shields, the bear soldiers—who, despite being huge, muscle-bound men, appeared puny in comparison to the Tao Tei—bludgeoning the enemy with mallets and axes.
Within minutes the impeccable organization of the multi-colored army had crumbled, and the battle had become as William and Pero had always known battles to be: a desperate, bloody, brutal skirmish for both victory and survival. Screams of rage and pain combined with the clash of weapons filled the air; the flat, wide battleground on top of the Wall became choked with mangled bodies, and awash with blood.
Weaponless and with his hands still bound together, William pressed himself back against the parapet beside the buttress, feeling vulnerable. For the time being the soldiers in front of them were fighting a fierce rearguard action, holding the Tao Tei at bay, but it would surely only be a matter of time before the creatures broke through the ranks and came for them.
“We need to get these off!” William yelled to Pero above the din of battle, and turned to the stone parapet behind him. In some desperation he stretched his hands, pulling the bound rope taut, and began to rub it up and down against the sharp edge of the parapet.
Pero was looking frantically around. Suddenly his eyes widened. He lurched across to William and nudged him.
“There!”
William turned and looked. On the ground not far away, evidently dropped in the heat of battle, was a small curved hand blade. It looked like one of the knives that the blue-armored crane warriors carried in their waistbands. William would have scurried across to get it if it hadn’t been for the fact that several of the bear soldiers, including the young one who had dropped the keys, were between him and the weapon. They were paying him no attention now, but if he shoved his way past them, especially if it was to arm himself, they would almost certainly do so. He spun towards Pero, frustrated. What could they do? With every second that passed the soldiers in front of them were being pushed further and further back, the Tao Tei surging forward.
Suddenly, from a dark, narrow opening in the Wall, the Westerner they had seen earlier appeared again. He was like some nocturnal animal, emerging from its burrow to sniff the air for signs of danger before darting back underground. On this occasion he had clearly poked his head out to see how the battle was progressing, and from the expression on his narrow, wrinkled face it was evident he didn’t like what he was seeing. His lips puckered and his eyebrows came together in a scowl, deepening the wrinkles on his forehead.
“Hey!” William shouted to attract his attention, though not loud enough to make the bear soldiers turn round. The lean Westerner, who was only a few feet from the blade, flashed a glance in William and Pero’s direction. As soon as he did, both men indicated the knife with urgent rolls of their eyes and exaggerated nods of their heads. Pero held up his bound hands and grimaced, then mimed as best he could his wish that the man should grab the knife and toss it towards them. The man hesitated a moment, then he scuttled forward and gave the blade a kick, sending it sliding in their direction. As he retreated back into the dark slit from whence he had come, William revised his opinion of the man. He wasn’t like a nocturnal animal at all. He was like a cockroach.
The man, whoever he was, had done them a favor, though, for which he was grateful. Sliding across the stony ground, the knife came to rest against the toe of Pero’s boot. Quickly he dipped to pick it up—but as he did so, the melee of struggling, battling soldiers in front of them suddenly seemed to burst apart, bodies flying everywhere. One of them stumbled against Pero, who fell forward, his foot inadvertently knocking against the knife and sending it skittering away. As Pero scrambled after it on his elbows and knees, there came a shattering, high-pitched screech of rage, and a Tao Tei leaped into the space occupied by the scattered soldiers. It homed in on William, who backed away, his hands still bound and weaponless. With another triumphant screech, the Tao Tei lunged for him.
The black-armored bear soldiers, who had had their backs to William and Pero, now turned. The young one, seeing the Tao Tei at such close quarters, instantly froze, but his bigger, silent companion and two other black-armored men rushed forward. The two newcomers swung the mallets and axes they held in their hands, while the other—William and Pero’s erstwhile guard—snatched up a discarded lance and thrust it at the advancing creature. The lance pierced the creature’s shoulder, causing it to bellow with rage and swing away from William and towards its three attackers. The men bravely waded in to the fray, but they were no match for the massive Tao Tei.
Moving like lightning, the Tao Tei swept out a massive claw and instantly shredded two of the men. Its black hooked talons ripped through their armour as though it was paper, and through their bodies beneath as though they were nothing at all. The men’s faces instantly went slack with horror and agony, and blood and innards began to gush from the rents in their midriffs. Both fell forward simultaneously, their armored bodies falling on to slippery piles of their own unraveling intestines. The third man hesitated, horrified at the ease and abruptness with which his companions had died. It was a fatal hesitation. The Tao Tei lunged like a shark and grabbed the man in its mouth, rearing up and shaking him as a dog might shake a rabbit.
The man screamed, his upper body inside the Tao Tei’s mouth, his legs kicking in desperation. Then his screams were abruptly cut off as the Tao Tei bit him in half. The man’s legs, still twitching, dropped to the ground with a clanking thump.
Pero had taken advantage of the distraction to grab the knife, which he was now holding awkwardly, the blade turned inward as he attempted to saw at his own bonds. It was a difficult process as his hands were both slippery and sticky with the blood oozing from his chafed wrists. He winced as the blade slipped again, nicking his skin and opening a fresh wound.
Then William yelled, “Pero!” and he looked up, to find the Tao Tei, its open maw blood-stained and dripping, bearing down on him.
Pero quickly turned the blade round, holding it out before him, already knowing how pathetically inadequate it would be against such a creature. Even so, he was a fighter and he would go down facing his enemy. He braced himself as the Tao Tei barreled towards him, thinking that this, at least, would be a far better way to go than dying ignominiously on the end of a rope.
Before the Tao Tei could reach him, however, help appeared from an unexpected source. The young bear warrior, who had frozen in terror as his comrades were torn apart in front of him, suddenly found the courage to lunge at the creature from the side, his long lance held out before him. With a shrill shriek, as though channeling all his terror and rage into one decisive action, he plunged the lance deep into the creature’s back.
The Tao Tei howled, swinging round so violently that the lance was not only torn from the young warrior’s hands, but actually became dislodged from the creature’s back and flew through the air. Although the lance-wound was nothing more than a scratch as far as the Tao Tei was concerned, it was still enough of an irritant for it to turn its attentions from Pero to the young bear warrior. Watching the creature veer towards him the boy’s eyes went wide with terror, and he desperately grabbed a discarded, bloodstained shield from the ground. As the Tao Tei attacked, its jagged-toothed maw opening wide, the bear warrior thrust the shield forward, and more by luck than judgment managed to jam it between the creature’s massive jaws.