The Blue Mountain (The Forbidden List Book 2) Read online

  “As soon as the gate is open, I want everyone to hurry through,” the Emperor addressed the gathered and weary Wu. “I know that some of you have used the gates before, but just in case, and for those who haven’t, it is disorientating. It’s probably better to keep your eyes closed as you go through. Think of it as travelling to the spirit realm, but without the blue thread to cling on to. You’ll feel dizzy, and maybe a little sick, but it is perfectly safe. Run through and don’t look back.”

  Zhou sought out Xióngmāo and spied her standing next to Boqin. They appeared to be engaged in a heated, whispered argument. He saw her raise a finger and jab it into his chest and then wave at the empty temple around them. Boqin towered over her, the top of her head barely reaching to his chest, but it was clear he was coming off the worst in the argument. The great bear’s face had a strange resigned look to it, almost sad, and Zhou wondered what they were discussing. He began pushing his way through the small crowd to get closer and find out. They both turned as he squeezed between the last two Wu standing in his way.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  “No,” Boqin said in his deep voice. “No problem.”

  Xióngmāo’s face said something entirely different. Zhou looked between them and felt for the first time in almost a year that he did not belong here. That he was intruding in a world whose rules and relationships were formalised a thousand years ago.

  The small woman rested a comforting hand upon his arm. “Boqin and I are resurrecting an old argument, and adding some new twists to it. It is not important right now.”

  Zhou attempted to give her smile of understanding, but knew it was weak and half-hearted. He turned to watch the Emperor bring the Dragon Gate to life. The lithe man stood between the empty pillars of the gates, his back to Zhou. He raised his arms to either side, not quite touching the pillars but coming close. The Emperor turned his hands over so that his palms faced the ceiling, a priest’s posture of supplication. It seemed an age that he stood there, and a quietness descended upon the room. They all waited and watched. The space between the gates flickered, a sharp riot of colour, sunbursts, rainbows and firecrackers. Zhou flinched, blinked and looked away, shielding his eyes.

  The ground shook for a short moment. Dust rained down from the ceiling. The heavier pieces of plaster bounced off of Zhou's head and he raised his arms to ward them off. From all around came the sounds of the others doing similar, gasps of pain, the shuffling of feet and a flurry of cursing. Fine dust followed, coughing and choking, drying his throat and leaving the taste of age upon his tongue.

  The Emperor staggered out of the cloud of dust. “We have a problem.”

  “Another earthquake?” Boqin said.

  “That too, but more importantly, I can't open the gate. The battle at the heart is disrupting the flow of energy. Either that or the red magic is interfering.” The Emperor had a puzzled and absent look upon his face.

  “Jian-min, stop thinking about it.” Boqin squared up Dà Lóng. “I know what you’re doing and this isn't the time for you to get distracted by a puzzle. We have to get the others off the mountain.”

  “You're right.” The Emperor's face lost its absent look and he returned to the present. “The bowl? It is short range and attuned to its mirror. The link is simple and direct. Nothing should be able to interfere. We need to get back to the first room.”

  “The first room?” Zhou asked.

  “The one we just came from,” Boqin started to round up and explain it to the others.

  “We call it the first room as it was the room used by the first of the Wu. To be honest, it began as a cave and they just improved it over the centuries. The bowl was the original attempt to create what we now call the Dragon Gates. There are only two of them. One here, you've seen it, and one on another mountain not far away,” Xióngmāo took over the explanation as she guided him back out of the temple.

  On the steps, the mountain shook again, throwing the Wu to their knees, and in two cases, all the way down the stairs. It went on and on this time, the impossibly loud grinding of the ground contorting in ways that would normally take an uncountable number of slow years. Zhou crawled to the pillars that lined the side of the stairs and supported the stone bannister, pulling Xióngmāo with him. He wrapped his arms around one of the pillars and held on tight. She wrapped her arms round him. In this strange embrace, they rode out the earthquake. Beneath them the ground swelled, and ancient temple walls began to crack and peel away from each other. With a loud crash the walls tumbled down, spewing stones across the ground like mah-jong tiles onto a gaming table. Slate roofs, their support stolen, collapsed, gravity accomplishing the task that slow weathering could not.

  The Emperor was the first on his feet when the shaking ended. “Move, we don't have time anymore. The attacks have increased and the heart is struggling,” he said.

  Boqin and Dà Lóng moved amongst the Wu, picking them up and sending them running towards the first room. Zhou ran with Xióngmāo, hand in hand, towards the same destination. Down the seven rivers road, the uneven surface now littered with shattered slate and discarded building stones. Large holes had appeared in the paved surface. Zhou was forced to take detours and clamber over fallen rocks. Xióngmāo kept pace with him. Boqin brought up the rear, shouting and cajoling them all to keep moving.

  The ground trembled again. Zhou pushed Xióngmāo through the door to the first room and towards the bowl at the end.

  “Climb in,” Boqin shouted over the noises of the rock, “as many of you as there is room.”

  Zhou helped Xióngmāo over the rim and lowered her into the water inside whilst two others held the exhausted looking Bianfu between them. The film of dust on the surface parted as her feet entered the water.

  “You too,” Boqin told Zhou.

  “There isn't room,” Zhou pointed out the lack of space in the now crowded bowl. “Send them first, I'll go next.”

  “Zhou,” Boqin began but was cut off by Dà Lóng.

  “We haven't got time to argue,” the Emperor grumbled. “Do you remember how to do this?”

  “Of course I do,” Boqin snapped back. “Zhou move out of the way and don't touch anything.”

  Boqin and the Emperor moved to either side of the bowl and placed their hands upon it. They began to circle, their hands remaining in contact with the rim. Slow at first and then, with gliding steps, faster and faster. A clear tone emanated from the bowl, deep and resonant. The water began to glow and the occupants vanished. One moment Xióngmāo had been smiling at him, the next she was gone.

  “Zhou, now you,” Boqin called.

  “No,” he said. “I want to stay and help.”

  “Don't be stupid, boy,” the Emperor shouted. “If we had needed help, there were enough fully trained and experienced Wu here to do it. Any of them would be a better choice than you. Stop wasting time and get in.”

  Zhou looked at the still circling Boqin, but only a stone cold stare was returned. He jumped in. A shock of cold at first and then the water rose over his head or rather he sank below it. Zhou started to shout in panic and saw bubbles of precious air rise before his face. He clamped his mouth shut as he sank further.

  Chapter 18

  “What is this about, Corporal?”

  “I was not informed, sir.”

  “Always the way, Corporal. Always the way.” Haung looked up at the late afternoon sky. The sun was obscured by a dark cloud that stretched away to the west. “Looks like it might rain.”

  Haung took a sidelong look at the uniformed soldier he walked alongside. He does not look much younger than me, he thought. The corporal’s uniform was neat. He was freshly shaven and his hair was worn in a tidy, short soldier fashion. The spear he carried had a polished haft and, Haung guessed, was sharpened every day, whether it had been used or not.

  “Been a soldier long?” he asked.

  “No, sir. Graduated from training last month. Promoted to Corporal when I was chosen to serve in the Ho
ly City.” The corporal’s face broke into a wide smile that was part pride and part nerves.

  The path they walked towards their destination was clogged with people hurrying about their own tasks, arms laden down with scrolls or boxes. Each one wore a pressured look upon their face.

  “A good assignment to be given. Advancement through the ranks could be quite quick if you are lucky,” Haung said.

  “I hope so, sir.”

  “You didn’t want a posting to the wall or to an active unit?” Haung asked.

  “I did, sir.”

  “Disappointed that you didn’t get one?”

  “No, sir. My uncle says I will learn a lot in the Holy City that I can use when I am given my first command.”

  Haung took a second look at the corporal. There was no trace of anything but solid conviction and truth in the young soldier’s voice. A privileged family, Haung thought.

  “Every day is a chance to learn something new,” Haung said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  They walked in silence until they approached a richly decorated door and the two guards who stood outside. Haung noted the plain and purposeful armour the two guards wore. Not the normal ceremonial stuff worn by the palace guards such as the corporal. The two guards carried what looked like their own personal choice of weapons. The one on the left had a pair of slender axes strapped to his belt and the guard on the right was resting on the haft of an upended ball hammer. They looked up as Haung approached, both giving him the same once over he had just given them. He fought the urge to rest his hand on the hilt of his Jian sword.

  “You can go now, Corporal,” the man on the left said. “We’ll take over from here.”

  The corporal bowed low. “Yes, Honoured Liu, Honoured Gang.”

  Haung was aware of the corporal’s departure but let his gaze swing to the two men in front of him. The man called Liu was tall and slender though Haung was aware that the height was actually a distraction from the man’s powerful frame. The second man, Gang, was shorter but much wider. His belly was putting a strain on the armour he wore but the way that he picked up the hammer and lifted it onto his shoulder spoke of the muscle below the fat.

  “So, you are the trainee Taiji,” Gang said as he stepped forward.

  Haung bowed but did not take his eyes from Gang’s approach. “I am Haung. Captain Haung.”

  “It is good to meet you, Captain Haung.” Gang smiled and Haung could see the man’s brown stained teeth behind the thick lips.

  “I’d heard you were a Jiin-Wei,” Liu spoke in soft voice.

  “I am,” Haung said and then corrected himself. “I was.”

  “And, now you are a Taiji,” Liu stated.

  “Silly tricks,” Gang said and he hefted the hammer, its shaft almost as long as Haung’s legs and the ball on the end larger than his head. “All you need is a good arm and big hammer. All I need to do is hit a man once.”

  “But, you need to be able to hit him.” Liu turned from his inspection of Haung.

  “I always hit them and when I do they don’t get up,” Gang chuckled.

  “But when you miss, you’re open and that hammer of yours is too big to defend with,” Liu said.

  “Didn’t you hear me? I always hit them, first and hard. I don’t need to defend,” Gang said. “I don’t need any magic tricks to win my fights.”

  “Jiin-Wei can be tough, Gang,” Liu said.

  “I’ve fought a few in my time. Same as everyone else. One hit with my hammer and it’s all over,” Gang directed a glare at Haung.

  “You’ve never fought a Taiji though?” Liu leant back against the wall at ease with the hammer-wielding man in front of him.

  “Aren’t that many left far as I know,” Gang admitted.

  “Ever seen one fight?” Liu smiled.

  “Can’t be any different to anyone else. You hit them hard enough and they stay down.” Gang’s smile faded and his hands had tightened around his hammer.

  “I’ll assume that’s a no then.” Liu’s smile widened. “Don’t get all irritated, Gang. I am just asking.”

  Haung looked between the two men. One appearing to be angry, ready to fight and the other smiling, relaxed. It was clear they knew each other. There was something teasing the back of Haung’s mind. He knew these two from somewhere.

  “Why am I here?” Haung entered the conversation to prevent the argument from going any further.

  “You don’t know?” Liu asked.

  “Leave him alone, Liu. You don’t know either and nor do I,” Gang said. “We got summoned the same way you did. Man in there,” he nodded towards the door, “told us to wait out here.”

  At that moment, the door opened and they were beckoned in.

  Chapter 19

  The grey world vanished. Bright yellow sunlight was turned orange by the skin of closed eyelids. A deep crashing sound assaulted his ears. Hands grasped his arms and guided him forward. Cold water swirled around his legs, soaking through his robes causing him to shiver. He reached forward and found an edge of metal. He grabbed it, held on and opened his eyes. All the others stared back at him.

  “Where’s Dà Lóng? Where’s Boqin?” they all spoke at the same time.

  Zhou took a deep breath before answering. “They stayed on the mountain. Said that they would come through when they had finished.”

  He recognised the concern on their faces, it mirrored his own, as Xióngmāo helped him from the bowl. Over their shoulders he could see the mountain. The long, deep valley that bisected the sharp-edged mountains gave a clear view of the southern face. Along the valley floor ran a small stream, too small to have created the valley itself. Either side of the water course, small farmsteads and rice paddies. These were the farmers who provided much of the food for the lower temples. Moving his gaze upwards, he could see the forests of the lower slopes, the crown of the trees spreading out and shading the land beneath with their summer growth. Higher still and the mottled greens and yellows of the broad leafed trees gave way to the uniform brown triangular peaks of pine trees. From this distance, it was difficult to pick out any of the temples on the mountain. The temple complex of the Wu, located on the north side of the mountain, was impossible to see.

  “What are they intending to do?” Xióngmāo asked of him.

  “I’m not too sure,” he said. “The Emperor spoke of the heart being under attack. I don’t know what they think they can do. The red light was flooding towards the heart when I last looked.”

  “The heart is not weak,” she said. “It is far stronger than it appears. It fills the mountain and shines brighter than the sun. It will not be easily destroyed. I don’t think it can be destroyed. It is as much part of the earth as the rock and dirt.”

  “Whatever, or whoever, is controlling the red light seems to think differently.” Zhou stared hard at the mountain, letting the vision of the spirit come into his eyes. The now familiar blue flame was still burning at the mountain’s core, but around its base a lake of red had formed. As he watched, the pool of invading red rose higher. He sighed in frustration, hands clenching by his side. “I can’t see what they are doing?”

  “They will be trying to commune with the heart,” Shān Yáng, the straggly bearded goat Wu, said.

  “They can’t,” Xióngmāo said and Zhou felt her hand tighten on his forearm.

  “It is all they can do,” the Wu said.

  “What’s going on?” Zhou asked of them both.

  “The heart is alive. It has a mind, thoughts. Not ones that we really understand.” Xióngmāo looked up at him with worried filled eyes. “If we’d had more time in the library I could have shown you the accounts of those who have succeeded in the past and the stories of those that failed. No one has attempted it for more years than I want to recall. Boqin made sure that all the Wu knew the risks and had banned it from the mountain.”

  “What happened to those who failed?” Zhou asked, turning back to look at the mountain.

  “Some died outright.
Some kept breathing for many days but never regained consciousness. Others lost their minds completely. They would spend their days gazing at the sun until their eyes went blind, or walk into the deep caves never to be seen again,” Xióngmāo said.

  “What about those who succeeded?” he asked, fascinated but scared.

  “They came back changed. I knew a few when I was young and the Wu more populous. You could see it in their eyes. Something had given them knowledge that was not meant for mortals, even those of us who can live for centuries or more. Some of our greatest scrolls were written by those who came back. Many others left, headed away from the mountain and into seclusion. They could no longer bear to be in the company of others.”

  “None of them tried to commune with the heart again? Or explain what they had discovered?” Zhou asked.

  “Commune again, no,” Xióngmāo said. “I asked one of those who came back to explain to me what it was like. He tried, he really did, but it would appear that spoken language is not up to the task. It was frustrating for both of us. He would come close to an explanation, you could see it in his eyes, but it would slip away. When it did, he would get angry and storm off. A few weeks later, he would try again to the same result. In the end, we gave up. The strange thing is that it was the same between those who had communed. They never spoke to each other about it. They would go out of the way to avoid the each other. I think they wanted to speak to each other, to compare their experience, but knew they never could.”

  “Perhaps that is why they went away?” Zhou said.

  “Maybe,” Xióngmāo said. “Evening is coming. It will get cold up here. I’ll get some of the Wu to gather wood for a fire. I’m not sure how long we will be waiting. Do you think you have enough energy to hunt for some food?”

  “Hunt? I haven’t got anything to... oh,” Zhou paused, abashed. “Yes, I think I can hunt some food for us.”

  “Don’t worry. It will still take a few more years to come to terms with everything.” She smiled at him. “In your case, perhaps a little longer.”