Before anyone could react, a second grille burst open and a second Tao Tei arm reached in and plucked away another of the Bear Corps warriors. Then, in quick succession, several more massive green arms swiped down and grabbed the remainder of the soldiers, one of them snagging the shoulder of Peng Yong’s armour with its pincer-like talons and hauling him upwards.
Peng Yong screamed and struggled, his legs kicking wildly as he was dragged towards the drooling mass of Tao Tei. Lin Mae had been unable to act swiftly enough to prevent the sudden and shocking deaths of the rest of her soldiers, but now she tugged her grappling hook from her waistband and instinctively threw it.
The hook flew straight and true, the chain wrapping around the Tao Tei’s wrist like a metal shackle, the four prongs of the hook itself securing themselves around the bent and twisted bars of the damaged grille. This clamped the Tao Tei’s arm in place, at least temporarily, and prevented it from dragging Peng Yong up through the rent in the ceiling.
Lin Mae knew it would only be a matter of time, however, before the Tao Tei managed to yank itself free. Behind her she was peripherally aware of William running forward, dipping down. She turned just in time to see him snatch up the blood-spattered shield of one of the dead Bear Corps warriors, turn it sideways and hurl it like a discus.
The shield, spinning like a top, flew with such speed and ferocity, that it severed the Tao Tei’s arm cleanly at the wrist. As Peng Yong dropped to the floor, the taloned claw still hooked in the shoulder of his armour, the Tao Tei let out a bellowing scream of agony. With green, foul smelling blood gushing from it and splashing over Peng Yong, the creature’s arm retracted through the breach in the ceiling. Lin Mae knew, though, that the Tao Tei’s injury would not prevent others of its kind from trying to get at them.
“Stay low!” she shouted as she, William and Wang rushed forward to retrieve her grappling hook and check on Peng Yong.
The three of them crowded round the young Bear Corps warrior, who was slumped against the wall, his face contorted in agony. Carefully William lifted aside the mangled, blood-spattered flaps of armour and cloth at Peng Yong’s shoulder and examined the wound beneath.
“You’ll have one hell of a scar,” he said. “But you’ll live.”
Quickly Lin Mae translated William’s words. Peng Yong nodded weakly, his face ashen.
William could tell that the young man, though not mortally wounded, was in no state to jump to his feet and return to the fray just yet – and they had no time to wait for him to recover.
“We’ll come back for him,” he said to Lin Mae.
She hesitated a moment, then gave a decisive nod.
It was much harder going now that the rest of the soldiers were dead, but with William, Lin Mae and Wang putting their all into getting the two heavy carts down the tunnel, they creaked and rumbled slowly onward.
With a thundering clatter of clawed feet and a chorus of enraged, ear-splitting screams, the Tao Tei poured into the courtyard. Instantly the Eagle Corps warriors began to unleash their arrows, their hands a blur of motion as they loaded and fired. The Bear Corps warrior gave a roar of his own and waded fearlessly into the fray, swinging his axe and mallet. Even the Imperial Guards, unused to combat, fought bravely, slashing and hacking with their swords.
In spite of their courage, however, the battle was over in seconds, the soldiers managing to dispatch only a few Tao Tei before they were overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers. There was a brief, mad, dark swirling blur of green flesh and blood and screams, and then the Tao Tei were smashing the heavy wooden door from its hinges and flooding into the tunnel.
The fifty paces to the pagoda cellar entrance were the longest of William’s life. Together with Lin Mae and Wang, he hauled and heaved at the two carts, edging them inch by inch towards their destination.
Eventually they crossed the threshold of the long tunnel into what appeared to be a small junction chamber. Directly ahead of them, on the far side of the chamber, an arched opening framed a set of wide, stone steps leading upwards. To their left, set at an angle, was a wet, dripping, spillway tunnel, the ceiling of which, some distance ahead, was inset with more of the grates through which daylight poured like a line of misty white ghosts. From what William had seen of the layout of the Palace grounds from the air, he suspected that this tunnel stretched towards the North Gate steps.
“Here,” Wang gasped, stepping back from the cart. His dark robes were crumpled and smeared with grime, and his face shone with sweat.
He looked exhausted, in need of a rest, but William knew there was no time. He was about to reply when, from back down the tunnel, they heard the triumphant screeching roar of the Tao Tei.
All three of them looked at one another, then swung round. In the far distance, beyond Peng Yong’s slumped form, they saw flashes of green, rippling shadows, the suggestion of movement.
“They’ve broken through!” Lin Mae cried despairingly.
“Do it now,” William said to Wang. His words were punctuated by another echoing screech, this one a little closer.
“We need more time,” said Wang, his voice desperate.
“Look!” gasped Lin Mae.
William turned to see Peng Yong staggering to his feet. The young man clutched the black powder weapons he had been issued with to his body and touched the fuse of one to the ignition device attached to his wrist. As it fizzed into life, he turned to look back at him, his eyes steady in his waxy, sweating face. He said something in a quiet, calm voice, and although they were too far away to hear his words, the message was clear. Peng Yong was both resigned to his fate and determined to do his duty.
The boy had finally become a man.
23
“'Turn away!” William yelled, waving his arms.
Wang and Lin Mae did so just in time. The next second there was a massive explosion, and William was swept off his feet and thrown forward by a buffeting wave of heat.
The tunnel filled with debris and dust. For a minute or more, lying on his belly, he couldn’t see anything. He sat up gingerly, coughing and spluttering, waving his hands in front of his face. He brushed at his clothes, which were covered in rubble and fine white powder.
Somewhere close to him, through the haze of dust, he heard Lin Mae and Wang coughing too. The sound was muffled, as though his ears were packed with sand. Still coughing, he clambered to his feet and walked a little way back down the tunnel, towards the site of the explosion. As the dust settled and the air became clearer, he realized that the grated section through which they had passed earlier was now completely blocked by a dark mass of pulverized stone. He listened hard, but though his ears were still throbbing he was pretty sure that the bellowing cries of the Tao Tei had now been silenced. He couldn’t even hear scratching or scuffling from the other side of the rockfall.
Peng Yong had done it. By sacrificing himself he had given them the most precious thing of all.
Time.
William staggered past the carts and saw two dark figures standing upright, albeit a little unsteadily, in the murk. As he approached them, they looked blearily up at him, their faces and clothes greyed by stone dust.
“Are you all right?” he asked Lin Mae.
She frowned and pointed at her ears.
He raised his voice. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes, yes,” she said, though she still seemed a little off-balance.