The Blue Mountain (The Forbidden List Book 2) Page 13

  Zhou smiled back at her, opened his mouth to speak and a wave of energy rippled through his body, stealing the words.

  “Get down and cover your ears,” Boqin shouted as he waded through the water in the bowl and fell over the side. “Get down.”

  Zhou stared at the bear-shouldered man as he lunged at Xióngmāo, dragging her to the ground.

  A large tremor swept through the land. The ground beneath Zhou’s feet lifted up and then fell away. He wheeled his arms, trying to keep his balance, but it was impossible. The ground rose again, or he fell, or both happened at the same time. His face smashed into the dirt and he tasted blood in his mouth. The noise that followed scattered all his thoughts to the winds.

  * * *

  Zhou screamed. He could not hear himself, but he knew he was screaming. His lungs burned and his ribs ached with the effort, his throat was raw and dry. The ground continued to rumble and shake, dirt moved in great waves like the surface of the ocean during a raging storm. Here, the wind was blowing through the earth itself and the fallen Wu were like small boats being tossed around on each peek and trough.

  With every gulp of air he inhaled dust. His eyes were closed tight but still the fine particles found their way in, mixing with the tears and gumming up his eyes. At any other time he would have wiped this gunge away, but his hands were busy. After the first tremor, he had grabbed the grass and held on. When one handful was ripped from the earth, he grabbed another.

  The ground shook, Zhou’s bones rattled. The pain the earth felt, it transferred to him. He hit the ground once more and bit through his bottom lip. He coughed on the blood that filled his mouth.

  As the shaking eased, he heard the sound like rain. It was moving towards him. Even through dirt muffled ears, he could sense the small thumps approaching and it sounded less like rain and more a marching army. A hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand trampling boots. He raised his head and tried to blink away the clagging mix of dust and tears that blurred his vision. Wiping the palm of his hand across his eyes, he peered into the distance and saw that his first surmise had been correct. It was raining.

  Across the valley, a billowing cloud of dust poured down the mountainside. At the leading edge of the roiling clouds, plumes of orange and bursts of red. The incandescent cloud plunged into the valley and broke against the opposite side. The side where the Wu were recovering. It rose towards them like a wave crashing on a beach. Zhou took a step backwards. The fire fuelled cloud reached for them, but fell short. The heat stole the air from his lungs and heated his exposed skin. He raised a hand to his face to ward it off. The cloud flowed back into the valley, cavorted downhill, funnelled and contained by the valley.

  The sky was masked by a column of smoke. New clouds pushed out from the main stack, one over another, higher and higher into the blue. At its upper reach, the cloud began to spread across the sky until it covered the whole of the horizon. Zhou looked up to see it pass overhead. The land grew dark as the cloud covered the sun.

  All around him, the rain fell. It was not water that dropped from the sky, but stone. He raised his arms over his head as the small pebbles fell. They stung his arms, but he was surprised that they did not pummel him to the ground. Curious, he bent down and picked up a fallen stone. It was small, not much bigger than his fingernail and light, lighter than any stone he had ever held. In his hands it felt warm. He held it up to his eyes and, in the unnatural dusk of morning, peered at it. The shape was irregular, knobbly and rough, covered in small holes. It looked as if bubbles of rock had been stuck together.

  “Zhou,” Xióngmāo said in a small voice. “The mountain.”

  He looked away from his inspection of the curious rocks and, for the first time, realised where the tall column of smoke was coming from. The mountain of the Wu had changed. Gone was the snow covered peak that had pierced the sky. It was shorter and from its truncated summit red flame spewed forth. He watched, mesmerised, as great sparks of red and orange, leaped into the air from the mountain and fell to the earth in an imitation of a rain drop. The very fact that he could see each individual spark rise, fall and splatter upon the earth told him that these drops of fire were anything but small.

  And now he could feel the heat from the mountain. It washed across his face in waves. Despite the desolation of the landscape, the heat had the feel of a pleasant, homely fire on a winter’s day or an afternoon in a Wubei summer. It was incongruous with the nightmare world he could see laid out before him.

  “A fire mountain.” Biānfú came to stand beside him. “Boqin, what did you do?”

  The great bear joined Zhou in watching the spectacle. “We spoke with the heart.”

  “I had no idea it was a fire mountain,” Biānfú said. “I’ve been all through the caves underneath and never once suspected. There were no lakes or channels of molten rock. No heat from the rocks below my feet, even in the deepest caves.”

  “Dà Lóng and I convinced the heart to protect itself. It used the fire and rock creatures that were attacking it. It welcomed them in and changed them. Gathered them together, crushed them together and thrust them out,” Boqin explained.

  “But the temple,” Biānfú said.

  “The temple is not important. Only the heart is important. It needed to be saved. We did what we had to do. It was not easy,” Boqin said.

  “Where is Dà Lóng?” Xióngmāo asked and Zhou picked up the worry in her voice.

  “Back in the capital, I would guess,” Boqin said. “He used the bowl to send me here and was going to use it to travel further. He has many tricks that he never showed anyone else.” He rested a comforting hand on her small shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. He knows what he is doing.”

  “What now?” Zhou asked. “The temple is gone and we are on our own.”

  “We disperse for a time. Head back to whatever we were doing before we were called to train you,” Biānfú said.

  Zhou waited for Boqin to argue the point and when no such argument came said, “We can’t just let this go. We’ve been attacked by something we know nothing about, including the reason it attacked. We have to find out. We have to protect ourselves.”

  “Not me,” Biānfú said. “The joy of living a long time is that any enemies I manage to acquire will die long before I have to do anything about them. Life is a long game, Zhou, don’t rush in to play when you’re not sure of the rules.”

  “You can’t think that. Your home has been attacked and destroyed. There is nothing left.” Zhou stood in front of Biānfú and pointed to the remains of the temple mountain. Thick rivers of lava were flowing down towards the dust shrouded valley.

  “Zhou,” Boqin’s voice was pitched low. “The Wu are not the army or the corps of diplomats you are used to. We are a loose group of people, who gather irregularly and meet up even less. The temple was built a long time ago when the order was young. It grew out of a need to teach, train and develop our knowledge. But all things pass and maybe it’s time is done. The heart is safe and protected for now. Nothing can harm it or come close to the mountain. Dà Lóng has seen to that. Revenge is not our way.”

  Zhou turned away and looked back at the mountain. His first home, the city of Wubei, had been destroyed by fire and he had lost his wife and child. Now, his second home was gone. All of his security, his friends, his loved ones, the roof over his head, it was all gone. A wave of loneliness swept through him. Tears swelled in his eyes and flowed down his face, leaving tracks in the dust covering his skin. He watched the rivers of fire reach the dark grey clouds of dust in the valley. They vanished into them with barely a ripple.

  All of those farmers and families gone, collateral damage in a war they knew nothing about and had no part in. Their homes, hopes and dreams, all of it wiped away by a cloud of burning ash and searing air. A soft hand rested upon his shoulder and he placed his own over it.

  “When you have been around for a long time, like they have, you might find yourself thinking the same way,” Xióngmāo’s
said. “You start to think like an animal, not entirely, but your desires change, you change, and so do you priorities.”

  “I can’t just let it go,” he said.

  “I know. So does Boqin. Biānfú is a bat spirit. Have you ever watched bats? They fly in swarms, roost upside down and sleep through the times they can’t hunt. If one is caught by an eagle, the others fly off and leave it to its fate. Boqin is bear. When it is cold and dark the bear hibernates. When it is warm it protects its territory, but does not seek to invade the land of others. The others are similar. Animals don’t hate, Zhou. They don’t feel the need for revenge. When things get too tough, or they lose the fight for dominance, they either submit or move on.”

  “But, they are not animals, they are people. They should feel the need,” Zhou said.

  “They recognise it, Zhou. They choose not to follow those feelings.” Her hand slipped from his shoulder and wound round his waist.

  “There must be someone.” He placed his arm around her shoulders.

  “Dà Lóng feels it,” Xióngmāo said. “Dragon’s guard their horde jealously. The Empire is his, he will protect it.”

  Zhou looked up, the sky was getting darker still and he realised the clouds were descending upon them. “We need to get away from here. The dust is starting to settle out of the clouds. We could choke. Let’s get everyone together and move out.”

  “To where?” Xióngmāo said.

  “Anywhere,” Zhou disentangled himself and turned his back to the mountain, “and once we’re there, I am going north. I want to find out what attacked us and I want to stop it. I’m sorry, Xióngmāo. I am not a Wu yet. I am still a man and I want revenge.”

  She looked up into his eyes and he saw the sadness in hers. Her hand reached up and stroked his cheek. “I will be coming with you. I can’t let you go on your own.”

  “What about the Emperor, Dà Lóng?” he asked and his stomach twisted with worry as he waited for the answer.

  “He can look after himself,” she said and, with a smile, swept away to gather up the tired Wu.

  Zhou watched her work and wondered. It was not the answer he wanted, but it was not the answer he feared either.

  Chapter 20

  The room they entered was lit by just a few candles, leaving much of it in darkness. In those shadows, Haung could make out a small collection of chairs, a low table and, some tapestries hanging on the wall. The rest of the room appeared to be empty.

  “What are we…,” Haung’s voice tailed off as the functionary who had showed them in slipped from the room and closed the door. He felt, rather than saw, Liu and Gang take a step away, creating room to move and swing.

  “I don’t like games,” Gang said to the darkness.

  “I am not playing,” the darkness spoke back in a weary voice.

  “Why have we been summoned? Who are you?” Liu stepped forward. A move that Haung read first as bold and then, when considered, seemed more defensive as Liu presented only one side of his body to the darkness ahead.

  “You are here because I commanded it,” the darkness snarled. “Don’t think to question me.”

  Haung calmed his breathing and let his senses reach out into the room. Feeling the play of the light breeze upon his skin, listening to the echoes of the voice from the wall, attempting to pinpoint the owner of the voice. The room felt bigger than it looked, even in the darkness. He tested the air with his nose and tongue, smelling and tasting. Dust tickled his nose and sucked the moisture from his tongue. There was a taint in the room, of old meat, of the beginnings of rot and decomposition. And there was something else too, the room was cooling, the air in his mouth, his nose, and drifting across his exposed skin was colder than it had been when they entered a moment ago.

  “Pull it back, Jiin-Wei, Taiji.” Haung saw two bright eyes snap open at the back of the room, shining and golden, burning with a rage that Haung could feel from where he stood. A heat rose on his forearm and he looked down to see the tattoo on his arm glow.

  Gang brought his hammer into a guard position and Liu rested his hands on his axes. Haung lifted his hand away from his Jian sword and gestured to the two men with him to step back.

  “He is wise, the Taiji,” the voice growled.

  “My Lord Emperor.” Haung bowed low. “How may we serve?”

  Gang and Liu turned to look at Haung for a brief moment before following his example and bowing.

  “Ah, Haung,” the voice returned to a low rumble, “you live to serve do you not. That is a good trait to possess. I do have a task for you, for you two as well. The war has begun and we have lost the first battle.”

  Haung looked up, shocked, his eyes wide. “How? Where?”

  “Away to the west, in the mountains.”

  “The west?” Haung repeated.

  “The enemy did not come from the west, Haung. It came from the north. The enemy I spoke to you about in Yaart has made its first move.” The Emperor moved in the darkness and Haung had the impression of a great beast heaving its bulk across the floor. A heavy scrape of metal on stone and a rustle of cloth.

  “Who is the enemy?” Haung asked.

  “I don’t know,” and the Emperor’s voice was full of regret. “I fought their army and had to retreat.”

  “What were they after?” Liu asked.

  The golden eyes shifted to the tall man. “A source of power and a link to further power. I stopped them, but they have destroyed something very dear to me. I am sure, now that they have made their first move, they will make another. Their time of hiding, of working from the shadows and through others, is coming to an end. We must be ready.”

  “My Lord, what is it you want me to do?” Haung asked.

  “The enemy comes from the north, Haung. The wall is our best defence and we have to protect it. I want you three to go to there. Find out when and where the enemy is coming from. Liu and Gang, you are known to many of the troops, if not by sight then your deeds are legend enough. I want you to work amongst them, find out more. You can walk through them with impunity. No one will stop you. Your mere presence will raise the morale of the troops on the wall.”

  “Haung, you are a trained soldier, a Jiin-Wei, and hold the military rank of Captain. I am appointing you as my direct liaison to the General of the Wall. I want you to work with him. Find out what the patrols need, use your skills to discover what is happening. Report directly to me.”

  There was more movement at the back of the room, in the shadows, and the Emperor, dressed in rich robes stepped into the light. His hair was neatly bound and jewels adorned his fingers. “Meet me in the Dragon Gate room in one hour. Masters Liu and Gang, Captain Haung, the Empire is under threat. The most important factor of war is the thing we lack, information. I need you to find out exactly who we are fighting.”

  The three men bowed once more.

  * * *

  Haung watched as his son crawled across the floor of the eating area, pushing a small ball ahead and giggling every time it rolled further than he could reach. The lad’s laugh was infectious and Haung had long given up the battle not to smile. Looking into Jiao’s eyes, the smile faded. She had yet to say anything. The silence hurt more than words.

  “I don’t have a choice,” Haung said to combat the quiet gaze. “He is the Emperor. It is my duty to do as he commands. Jiao, you understand. You knew this when we married. All the things we had to go through. The move here was sensible. We knew that it would be a change for both of us. The past year has been good, but it is my job. It is what I have to do. I am a captain in the army. I am a trained Jiin-Wei. You know that. Jiao, it is not that I want to go to the wall. To leave you and the baby.”

  Jiao, her long dark hair tied back, looked at him.

  “Jiao,” he began again.

  She raised a hand and stopped him. “Haung, I know all those things. But I can still be upset. I can still imagine missing you and you missing out on our son growing up. I can still be afraid of the danger you will be in. I can
still worry.”

  “I’ll be surrounded by the whole army, Jiao. The great wall is the best defence that the Empire has ever built. Nothing will get over or through it.”

  “You forget, Haung, I know you. You cannot help yourself. Something will catch your interest. A little puzzle or moment of danger and you’ll dive right in. You can tell yourself that you do it to protect people, and that is true, but you also enjoy it.” Jiao’s eyes began to swell with water, a glassy sheen covering them.

  “I don’t like the danger, Jiao, but I have seen what war can do.” Haung rested a hand on his chest feeling the necklace below the robe. “I will not allow anyone to threaten us again.”

  “Even if it is an army you cannot stop?” Jiao asked.

  “We don’t know that, Jiao. I am just going to the wall to see what is coming and help the Emperor plan for it. I won’t be involved in any fighting. I am just a liaison,” Haung said.

  “You are more than that, Haung. You said it yourself. An officer, a Jiin-Wei and training to be something else too, a Taiji. That is a rare thing, my love. The other women talk to me and to the others when they think I am not listening. At first, their husbands and families were worried about us. Did you know that? A mere captain from a provincial duchy brought here at the Emperor’s order and given to a man who had sworn never to train another after the betrayal of his son.”

  Haung looked into his wife’s eyes. He had not realised how much she knew of the politics in the Holy City. He chided himself, he had underestimated her once again. She was much wiser and more stubborn than he. She had married him on her terms, not his. Convinced him that rules, the very things that had given his life boundaries and meaning could be bent for the right cause. She had made him see sense in Yaart. Given him something to protect that was more precious than his duty. However, there was a threat to the Empire. Something that had been growing for many years and had led, in no small part, to war between Wubei and Yaart. An enemy that had, through the need to be united, led to the destruction of a city and its people. A sacrifice made to the greater good. It still gave him nightmares. He rubbed the necklace through the robe once more, feeling its outline.