Mark Morris - The Great Wall

William looked dubiously at the jutting curl of wood to which the hook was attached. It was stout and solid, but would it be strong enough to take their combined weight? Turning back to her, he said doubtfully, “Lin Mae, I—”

“Xin ren,” she said fiercely. She held his gaze for a moment, and then he nodded at her.

“I’ll give you the shot,” he said.

With no further argument, he plucked the magnet from the end of the lance to which it was still attached and tucked it beneath the breastplate of his armour, knowing the magnetism would hold it there until he pulled it free. Lin Mae, meanwhile, quickly secured the line around the both of them, binding them together, then drew her lance, around the top of which she tied pouches of black powder with leather thongs. Lighting the long fuse, which ran up the shaft of the lance, she said, “Ready?”

He nodded. Lin Mae transferred the lance with its sizzling fuse to her left hand, and then, with Tao Tei hurtling up the stairs of the tower towards them, their cries echoing in the confined space, they climbed up on to the top rail of the wooden balcony—and leaped.

As they swung away from the tower, looping towards the ground, the first of the pursuing Tao Tei reached the balcony on which they had been standing seconds before. With no thought for their own safety, the Tao Tei hurled themselves one after another from the balcony, their jaws snapping as, like vast eagles attacking smaller prey, they tried to pluck their enemies from the air. William and Lin Mae, however, were moving too quickly, their bodies describing a graceful arc as they swung out over the courtyard. Lin Mae looked down at the Queen and her Paladins. Then, almost casually, she hefted the lance in her right hand, drew back her arm, and nodded at William, who tugged the magnet out from beneath his breastplate and hurled it towards the center of the protective dome created by the Paladins.

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.

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.