“Twenty-five years!” Ballard exclaimed. “Twenty-five years I’ve been braiding this together. Twenty-five years of smiling and scheming and burying my intentions in this forgotten graveyard.”
Pero halted again. Took a deep breath. Although Ballard had backed away when he’d swung round on him earlier, it hadn’t taken more than a few seconds before the skinny little man had been scurrying along behind him again, jabbering in his ear as if he was the one jeopardizing their plans.
If he didn’t need Ballard’s help…
If it wasn’t for the black powder…
Pero was not a patient man, but he forced himself to stay calm. Though gritted teeth he said, “I’ve told you, I’ll find him.”
“And I’ve told you—forget him!” snapped Ballard. “Your friend would rather die trying to bed the new General than grab the key to every counting room and brothel in the world!” He darted around Pero to look briefly into his face, as if to check that he was listening. “Good God, man, the time is now!”
Pero’s dark eyes flashed, holding Ballard’s little ratty ones for a second. Obstinately he said, “We can’t go without him.”
Ballard’s voice was suddenly sly, silky. “The more spoils for us should we live.”
Then he quailed at the cold, murderous look that Pero gave him. “We need his bow.”
Before Ballard could respond, a high, wailing screech came ricocheting down the corridor.
Pero started to run.
The wailing sound, eerie and high-pitched, almost child-like, had come from the harpooned Tao Tei. Still fighting the sedative, it was squirming on the end of the chain, making a last desperate bid to escape. Peering over the parapet, Lin Mae saw the blades protruding from this section of the Wall retract to allow her men to haul the creature up the last stretch of stone. She wondered whether the creature’s wail was a cry of pain or anguish (she had thought the Tao Tei possessed no real emotions), but when she saw a swarm of green shapes rising swiftly up the outside of the Wall towards it, she suddenly realized what it really was—a distress signal.
Sure enough, instead of scaling the Wall towards their human enemies, the Tao Tei surrounded the impaled creature and tried to release it, their huge jaws biting at both the harpoon and the chain. Lin Mae turned and yelled at the winch bearers to hurry, knowing that within moments their potential catch would be lost.
But already the extra weight on the chain as several Tao Tei leaped and clung on to it was too much for the winch bearers to cope with. Try as they might to hold on, their contorted faces sweating and straining beneath their helmets, the chain which they had taken such pains to reel in slowly but surely began to unravel, sparks flying up as metal scraped squealingly over metal.
Suddenly she sensed someone beside her and turned to see the foreign soldier, William, his bow and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. He glanced at Lin Mae and then peered over the parapet to see what was happening. To his right the chain was scraping and shrieking over the lip of the stone Wall as it continued to unravel.
As William moved across to the chain, Wang, still standing on top of the command tower, shouted, “What are you doing?”
William glanced up at him. “I’m going over. It’s the only way.”
He was aware of Lin Mae’s eyes widening, of Commander Chen looking at him as if he was crazy. Then Chen turned to Lin Mae, as if silently asking her what the protocol was for this situation, whether the foreigner could do what he intended without her permission.
Lin Mae looked at William, and a moment passed between them—of respect, perhaps of understanding.
Then she gave the barest of nods, and the next moment William leaped up on to the edge of the parapet, wrapped his legs around the unraveling chain and plunged headfirst towards the ground.
14
Using his legs as a natural brake, he eased the tension in them a little to allow his body to slither down the chain even as the chain itself was plunging towards the ground. As he descended through the mist, he grabbed a handful of arrows, aimed his bow, and fired off several quick shots.
His aim, as ever, was impeccable. Shot through both eyes, the Tao Tei directly below him, that had been attempting to gnaw through the chain, lost its grip and fell away, tumbling into the murk below, dead before its body had even reached the ground.
William fired two more arrows, and the Tao Tei that had been trying to bite the harpoon from the impaled creature’s abdomen also fell away.
But now William was so low down the Wall—closer to the ground than he was to the parapet—that the stonework around him was swarming with Tao Tei, some of which were still ascending and some of which were simply clinging there like giant green spiders, as if awaiting further orders from their Queen. Many of the creatures William dispatched before they even became aware of him, his body spinning and swaying on the descending chain as he fired off arrow after arrow with dazzling speed and skill.
By the time the now unconscious Tao Tei, its body still attached to the harpoon, reached the ground, William was no more than twenty feet above it. The Tao Tei’s landing, slowed by those still working the winch at the top of the Wall, was a relatively gentle one. William slid down the last few feet of chain and swung round to land on his feet beside the Tao Tei’s body.
He looked around him, but all he could see was thick white fog. Were the Tao Tei even aware that he was here? He looked up at the chain, which was swallowed by fog about thirty feet above him. Now that there was only the dead weight of the unconscious Tao Tei to contend with, would they have another go at winching it up? In fact, why weren’t they doing it already? Because the winching mechanism was damaged? Because they were all exhausted from their earlier efforts and were pausing for breath before starting again?
Suddenly a Tao Tei loomed out of the fog, going down on all fours and springing at him like a dog. Reacting instinctively, William brought his bow round and fired two quick arrows, piercing its eyes and stopping it in its tracks.
But even as he jumped to the side to stop the creature’s dead bulk from slithering into him and crushing him against the Wall, another Tao Tei lunged at him from his left hand side. He turned, trying to adjust his position and bring his bow up at the same time—and succeeded only in tripping over the outstretched claw of the creature he had just killed.
The Tao Tei bellowed in triumph, its jaws opening wide. William fell, his bow beneath him. He knew even as he twisted round to face his attacker that there was no way he’d be able to roll off the bow, grab it, load it and fire it in the couple of seconds it would take for the creature to crunch him in its jaws and devour him. There was barely even time to resign himself to his fate—which was probably a good thing.
Then there was a thwack! and the next instant the creature’s severed head was flying through the air. Hot, stinking green blood from its stump of a neck splashed over his boots as it collapsed, shuddered for a moment and then became still.
Astounded, William looked up. Wreathed in fog, Pero looked like a wraith. He was scowling, an axe dripping green gore in his hand. As Pero hauled William to his feet he said, “I’m only saving you so I can kill you myself.”
“How did you get here?” William asked.
Pero pointed at the chain ascending into the mist. “Same way you did.” He looked quickly around to peer into the fog that surrounded him, and then back at William, anger and confusion on his face. “Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s possible,” said William, and then shouted a warning as a Tao Tei lunged out of the fog behind Pero. He spun, swinging his axe and smashing the creature to one side. Stepping smartly forward, William finished the beast off with two swift arrow shots to its eyes.