With expert precision, Lin Mae hurled her lance, which followed the arc of the black stone as though the two objects were tied together. The magnet landed first, causing the Paladins, the rigged Tao Tei and the Queen herself to freeze, as though hypnotized. With the Paladins unable to maneuver themselves to create a barrier around their Queen, the lance fell straight and true, right into the gap at the top of the dome. There was a pause, during which time William and Lin Mae continued to swing over the Queen and her entourage, as the fuse on the lance burned down…
…and then there was an earth-shattering explosion, mostly contained within the Paladin’s protective barrier, which tore the Tao Tei Queen into a million pieces, gobbets of flesh and gallons of green blood erupting into the air like lava from a volcano.
Swinging in a great loop, low over the Palace grounds to the side of the steps, William and Lin Mae were buffeted by the explosion. It bore them back round and up on their return trajectory more quickly than they would have liked, and they crashed against the sloping pan-tiled roof of the pagoda with enough force to smash the breath from their bodies. Lin Mae, the lighter of the two, recovered swiftly, scrambling up and onto the balcony above her even as the now cracked and unstable tiles began to slither and tumble away beneath her feet. William, however, was not so lucky, nor so nimble. Scrabbling for purchase, he found that the already-damaged tiles were shattering and sliding away beneath him too rapidly for him to gain any forward momentum. As a result he found himself skidding back down towards the edge of the roof, knowing all too well that if he fell he would plunge to his certain death hundreds of feet below.
Then he felt a hand enclose his wrist and grip on tight. He looked up to see Lin Mae, her face contorted with effort, leaning over the balcony. “I’ve got you,” she gasped.
With strength that belied her small frame, she began to haul him towards her. Now that his fall had been arrested, William was able to aid her by gripping with his free hand on to the edges of unbroken and still securely fastened tiles on the roof around him and claw his way upwards. A few seconds later he was up and over the edge of the balcony, the two of them gasping with effort and shaking with reaction. Clambering to his feet, he stood beside her, the two of them looking back at the devastation they had caused.
With the death of their Queen the leaderless Tao Tei that had been swarming up the sides of the pagoda had frozen like statues. And now, as William and Lin Mae watched, the creatures, their life force extinguished, began to fall back, to tumble, one by one, layer by layer, to the ground far, far below.
24
As the sun rose over the Southern Plain, thirteen riders moved quickly and purposefully through the morning mist. The beautiful, exquisitely fashioned armour of twelve of the riders flashed gold in the early light. The thirteenth rider wore a dark, padded jerkin, breeches and boots—simple but well made—and had a bow and a quiver of red-tipped arrows slung across his back.
The horses were fine and strong, and they kicked up a thick cloud of dust in their wake as they galloped across the bare and sandy plain. One of the horsemen carried the Emperor’s Standard, which fluttered and flapped in the slipstream.
Lin Mae strolled along the now empty battlements of the Great Wall, close to its outer edge. Occasionally, as she walked, she stretched out a hand, allowing her fingers to trail across the rough stone.
She had come to say goodbye to the home she had known virtually all her life. It was not an easy task. She had so many memories entwined in this ancient structure. So many ghosts of her past haunted its corridors and walkways. She thought of all those she had loved and lost—her commander and surrogate father General Shao; her friends and lieutenants Xiao Yu and Li Qing; stern-faced but wise and kindly Strategist Wang; even Peng Yong, the frightened boy who had eventually discovered that he possessed great courage, after all.
So many gone, never to return. Alone now, she stopped and looked across the desert, at the rising sun shining on the tip of the Gouwu Mountain in the distance.
“General…”
The voice was diffident. It came from behind her.
She took one last look at the mountain, which appeared peaceful now, its green glimmer like cool, glassy water, and then she turned around.
The Imperial delegation slowed as it approached the towering fortress on the Bianliang side of the Wall. But when the twelve Imperial infantrymen stopped and dismounted a few hundred yards from the fortress’s side gate to stretch their aching limbs and tend to their weary mounts, the thirteenth rider rode on.
Slowing his horse to a walk, William looked up at the fortress’s forbidding façade, and then scanned the battlements at the top of the Wall, screwing up his eyes against the brightening sun as he looked first right and then left. He saw no sign of life. The Great Wall, unmanned, appeared eerily desolate. He was just beginning to wonder whether the information he’d been given was incorrect when the fortress’s side gate opened and a figure appeared.
It was a Bear Corps warrior, one of only a few who remained here now that the threat from the Tao Tei was over. The Nameless Order, decimated in the final battle, was no more. Soon even the last few survivors who still resided here – those members of the cavalry who had pursued Pero and Ballard into the desert; those warriors whose balloons had drifted off-course and landed miles away from Bianliang – would be issued with orders to join new regiments elsewhere.
The Bear Corps warrior gave a nod of respect and led William along a series of familiar corridors to the stockade – to the very cell, in fact, that he had occupied just before Lin Mae had given orders that he be set free. The door was unlocked and opened, and William entered the dusty cell.
And there, standing against the wall, his head secured within a square wooden pillory etched with Chinese symbols, his upraised hands chained to the wall behind him, was his old friend, Pero Tovar.
Pero glanced at him ruefully, then looked away. William couldn’t help grinning.
“So?” he said cheerfully. “How’s life without me?”
Pero shot him a dark look. After a moment he mumbled, “A little slow.”
Both men regarded one another for a moment, and then, in unison, they started chuckling.
“So you’ve become a hero, after all,” Pero said.
William shrugged, but he wore a smug expression, milking the moment. “Looks that way.”
“You seem pleased with yourself. So what are they giving you for all your troubles? A bag of gold? A victory parade along the top of the Wall?”
Airily William said, “All the black powder I can carry. And a cavalry escort to get me home safely.”
Pero stared at him, his brows beetling with resentment. “Well, congratulations,” he said heavily.
“Thank you.”
“So what’s all this? Are you here to rub my nose in it?”
William spread his hands. “Would you blame me? The last time I saw you, you left me for dead.”
“And the time before that, I saved your life,” Pero retorted.
“True,” acknowledged William. He stared at Pero for a moment, as if weighing up his options.
Eventually he said, “You know, the Emperor gave me a choice. Either I could take the black powder… or I could take you.”
Pero stared back at him impassively. “Please tell me you chose the powder.”
William sighed. And then he produced a set of keys and began to unlock the shackles around Pero’s wrists.