Mark Morris - The Great Wall

She was sitting within her circle of Paladins and appeared to be feeding. The Paladins had allowed a select number of Tao Tei soldiers to come forward and open their vast jaws. Also open was the Queen’s mouth, from which had extended multiple tentacle-like tubes, which had reached down into the throats of the uncharacteristically servile Tao Tei. Now the tentacles linking the Queen to her soldiers were bulging and rippling as she gorged on their already partly digested meal.

William didn’t know what was more disgusting—the Queen’s eating habits or the fact that the belly of her already bloated form was distended yet further by the many thousands of eggs rippling beneath her almost translucent skin. He glanced at Lin Mae, who put a hand over her mouth to demonstrate how the sight made her feel. He grimaced and nodded.

Peng Yong yelled another warning, and William looked up to see that, despite his efforts to steer them the other way, the strong wind had plucked them yet closer to the right-hand pagoda. It was looming up on their starboard side, coming at them both too fast and too quickly. Instinctively William grabbed something solid and fixed with one hand and, as the balloon suddenly swung up in a wide arc, Lin Mae with the other.

Chen kept firing arrow after arrow, but he knew it was hopeless. The ropes were still tangled around the chimney, the balloon above them was now slumping and sinking, and the Tao Tei were becoming too numerous to keep at bay.

He fired yet another arrow, as did the soldier beside him, as four Tao Tei leaped in unison from the chimney towards the gondola. Both arrows found their mark, the creatures twisting in mid-air before falling back into the seething horde of teeth and claws below, but the remaining pair of Tao Tei clamped their jaws around the gondola and wrenched it sideways. As Chen fell backwards, the last thing he saw was the glowing brazier tipping over onto the container of black powder they had been feeding it with.

Then everything disappeared in noise and blinding white light.

The balloon missed the pagoda roof by inches, but the gondola didn’t. As the balloon drifted up and past the multi-tiered tower, the stern of the gondola, swinging behind it, clipped a protruding ledge, which both knocked off a chunk of rubble, and made the vessel spin and shudder.

Feeling as though he was inside a giant barrel being rolled down a hill, William clung on to both his handhold and Lin Mae. Dragging Lin Mae down with him, he crouched low to better center himself, tucking in his head, and so was only peripherally aware of something large and dark tumbling past behind him. Belatedly realizing it was Wang, he looked round to see the little man slam against the inside wall of the gondola as it tipped, then roll back to lie spread-eagled on the floor as it settled again. From the shocked expression on Wang’s face, it was clear he knew all too well how close he had come to falling overboard. If the gondola had tipped just a few more inches, he would have tumbled up and over the side.

As the gondola, though juddering, started to settle, with Peng Yong still hauling heroically on the ropes, William opened his mouth to speak. But at that moment Chen’s balloon, which had been somewhere to their right, on the other side of the pagoda, exploded with a shattering roar.

Once again they threw themselves to the floor as their gondola rocked and spun. A black cloud of smoke and dust and debris rolled over them, making them cough, hampering visibility. That was another balloon gone. Another three soldiers of the Nameless Order who had given their lives to the cause. William wondered how many more of them were left. Wondered whether the future of the entire human race now lay solely in the hands of him and his companions.

Of the many balloons that had launched from the battlements of the Great Wall, only a handful had reached their destination. Following their General’s orders they were landing now in the huge open courtyard to the rear of the Main Hall.

It was a scene of utter chaos. As gondolas careered and scraped across the stone floor, trailing ropes and masses of deflating silk and canvas, hundreds of people, perhaps even as many as a thousand, were pouring out of the Palace like ants from a trampled nest. These were mainly the Palace’s staff—servants, cooks, porters, footmen, laundresses. They were all sizes, all ages, all types, and they were fleeing for their lives, every single one of them terrified out of their wits.

They were heading as one towards the South Gates, in the vain hope that they might somehow escape the marauding monsters at their heels. The Tao Tei were not here yet, but they soon would be; they were not far behind. As the people flooded from the Palace they screamed and pushed and shoved. Many of them tripped over the trailing ropes or the deflating billows of silk, and fell and rolled, often injuring themselves, only to then pick themselves up and limp or stagger on regardless.

In the midst of this melee the Imperial Guard, or at least those that were left, were trying in vain to restore order. In truth, though, they had been completely overwhelmed by the disaster that had befallen them, and were just as scared and disorganized as everybody else.

As yet another gondola crashed down in the courtyard, the balloon it was trailing billowing up and over it like a shroud, the Guards ran instinctively towards it, their swords drawn.

The huge mass of stitched-together silk and canvas and animal skin billowed and furled in the wind. Trapped beneath it, Lin Mae felt as if it was smothering her. For a few seconds she was unable to breathe, overcome with panic.

Then she heard William’s voice, muffled but nearby. “Use your blade! Cut your way through!”

She forced herself to become calm, to reach for that still point in the center of her being. When she had found it, she reached with her fingers, ignoring the silk slithering across her face, and plucked her short blade from the sheath that was strapped to her leg. She slashed upwards, cutting through layers of dark material, feeling them fall away, finally seeing light penetrate the gloom. Cutting the hole wide enough, she clambered out, like a butterfly from a cocoon, and immediately became aware of William beside her, taking her arm and helping her out of the shredded wads of fabric.

When she looked up it was to see an Imperial Officer and several panic-stricken soldiers staring at her. The Officer, in his beautiful gold armour with its royal red and blue trimmings, was pointing a sword at her, his shaking hand causing the blade to quiver like a divining rod.

His voice shrill with alarm, he demanded, “What is this? Who are you?”

William scowled at him. “Back away!”

It was clear the Officer didn’t understand William’s words, but his aggressive manner was easy to interpret. Addressing Lin Mae again, he shouted, “Answer me!”

Lin Mae knew that if the man had had his wits about him, he might have recognized her armour, but he was clearly beyond that. Placing a hand on William’s chest as an indication that he should stand down, she stepped forward and reached into the collar of her armour, producing the gold medallion that General Shao had passed on to her. Silently she showed it to the Officer, who gazed at it as if hypnotized.

Finally, in something like awe, he murmured, “The Nameless Order.”

Instantly the nerve-wracked soldiers behind him dropped to their knees.

“Forgive me, your Excellency, for having eyes that fail to see,” the Officer continued. “I deserve a thousand de—”

“Off your knees, man! We’ve not time for that! Where is the Emperor?”