Lin Mae said nothing. For a few more seconds she and the General continued to scan the dimly lit section of the Wall ahead, alert for the slightest indication of movement.
Eventually General Shao hissed two words. “Dismount. Formation!”
Instantly, their reactions honed by years of training, the two dozen Deer Corps warriors slipped silently from their horses and flowed forward like a purple sea to stand in front of their commanding officers, their circular shields locking together to form an impenetrable barrier.
General Shao and Lin Mae crept forward to peer through a gap in the shields. With a single whispered command and a couple of economical gestures, the General ordered that all but two of the pine oil torches be extinguished.
That done, he whispered, “Forward.”
In perfect synchronization the shield formation began to slowly advance, their breathing steady, the outer edges of their shields scraping gently together.
Bringing up the rear, General Shao and Lin Mae drew their swords. Ever cautious, General Shao held his up in front of him, using its polished blade as a mirror to check behind them. Sure enough, behind the tethered horses, he saw something dark and bulky at their backs, creeping towards them up the slope. Signaling Lin Mae with the slightest movement of his head, he angled the blade in her direction so that she too could see the impending threat.
Moving slowly, so as not to goad the enemy into action, the two of them reached down in unison, each drawing circular throwing blades, which were sheathed to the outsides of their boots. Despite their attempt to be surreptitious, the huge, dark shape at their backs suddenly began to accelerate towards them, causing the horses to whinny in panic. At the same time a massive black shadow rose above the apex of the slope ahead and began to rush, almost to flow, down the incline. The Deer Corps warriors, alert to the impending attack, advanced swiftly, shield formation unbroken, to engage the enemy.
Just as the shield formation neared the top of the slope, the Tao Tei, which had been moving with uncharacteristic stealth, let out a bellowing screech and leaped forward from the shadows, green skin vivid and the rows of jagged teeth in its gaping maw gleaming in the lamp light. As it pounced, the shield formation suddenly opened up from the center outwards, like a double door composed of overlapping panels, and eight long lances thrust out to skewer the beast in mid-air. Although the point of every lance hit home, piercing the creature’s eyes and skin, and causing green blood to spurt from multiple wounds, the dying Tao Tei’s momentum carried it forward, scattering soldiers as if they were toys. The creature’s massive jaws snapped shut on the lance bearer directly in its path, ripping through his armour as if it were wet paper and grinding him into a mouthful of pulverized meat in an instant.
As the creature thudded to the ground and died, its last unfortunate meal still leaking from its mouth, the second Tao Tei at the rear of the group launched its attack. With a screeching cry that echoed its companion’s, it lunged at Lin Mae and General Shao, who wheeled around, throwing their twin blades in unison. Two of the four blades struck home with unerring accuracy, burying themselves deep into the creature’s tiny eyes on its massive chest. But as with the other Tao Tei, its unstoppable momentum continued to carry it forward, its jaws yawning wide to consume Lin Mae, who was standing directly in its path.
Although her reactions were second to none, she knew, even as she was drawing her sword, that the creature would be upon her before she had time to defend herself. As the Tao Tei’s jaws gaped, she knew that what she was staring at was her own death hurtling towards her.
And then, without warning, something smashed into her from the side, sending her spinning out of the way. She fell, rolled and regained her feet in an instant—just in time to see her savior, General Shao, now standing in front of the creature. His sword was in his hand, and as the huge green mass of the monster bore down upon him, he thrust it forward, straight into the Tao Tei’s mouth. It was dead before it reached him, but Lin Mae was still horrified to see it crash into his body with the weight and power of a dozen horses; to see him first go down and then disappear beneath its pulverizing bulk…
12
Removing a stone from the base of the wall behind his bed, Ballard reached into the hollow and withdrew a tightly rolled scroll of brown parchment. With long, deft fingers he untied the twine around it and carefully unrolled it. William caught enough of a glimpse of the scroll to realize it was a map, but before Ballard could explain exactly what kind it was, and why he was showing it to them, a simple, steady drum beat began to pulse through the maze of corridors within the fortress.
Like a rat sensing danger, Ballard froze and looked up.
“That’s a tower call,” he hissed. “A warning. Something’s happened.”
The top of the Wall was already thronged with soldiers who had answered the call. Yet still they flowed from every opening, illuminated by thousands of torches, which blazed in defiance of the night.
General Shao, lying on a stretcher, his black and now hideously crushed armour splashed with green Tao Tei blood, was being carried quickly but carefully through the milling crowd. Despite the chaos, soldiers moved back to make way for him, bowing reverently not only to their injured commander but also to Lin Mae, who was by his side.
The stretcher bearers were heading towards the opening in one of the towers, from where they would be able to descend to the fortress, when Shao weakly raised a hand.
“Far enough,” he croaked.
Immediately the stretcher was lowered gently to the ground. Lin Mae and the other commanders knelt beside it, the rest of the soldiers in the crowd around them—including William, Pero and Ballard, who had rushed to the top of the Wall like everyone else—craning forward to see and hear what was happening.
Turning his head with obvious pain, General Shao swallowed and softly said, “Commander Lin.”
Irritated by the buzz of alarmed and speculative conversation around them, Commander Chen turned and barked, “Quiet!”
Instantly the clamor ceased, to be replaced by a respectful silence.
Lin Mae leaned forward to hear the General’s murmured words. “They led us into a trap. We underestimated their intelligence.” His trembling hand reached beneath the collar of his armour and emerged holding a gold medallion attached to a length of silk thread. The rim of the medallion was studded with five precious stones, each a different color to denote the five Corps of the Nameless Order.
“Commander Lin,” Shao said again, and although his voice was weak, such was the depth of the silence around him that it carried a good distance through the crowd in all directions.
Lin Mae leaned forward as General Shao, summoning the last of his failing strength, reached out towards her with both hands. His left hand found hers and cupped it so that her palm was facing upwards. With his right hand he pressed the medallion into her open palm, then closed her fingers tightly around it.
Raising his voice as much as he was able, he croaked, “The Nameless Order is yours to command. This is my final order.” Turning to the rest of his commanders, he said, “From this day forward, Commander Lin will lead you.”
Lin Mae looked alarmed. “General,” she began, but he silenced her with the tiniest shake of his head.
“You are ready.”
Through the tears, which first blurred her eyes and then began to run down her cheeks, Lin Mae saw blood on her beloved General’s lips. She glanced around at the other commanders, and saw tears in their eyes too.
Moving forward, Commander Chen cupped his hands in a gesture of respect and obedience.