Mark Morris - The Great Wall

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.

“The horses are saddled and waiting. Best we ride before nightfall,” said William, leading the way back towards the fortress’s side gate.

They rounded a corner at the head of a flight of stone steps leading downwards, Pero rubbing his sore wrists – and there they halted. Lin Mae, resplendent in gleaming gold-plated armour, was ascending slowly towards them.

Pero glanced behind him, saw a door standing half-open.

“I’ll wait in here. Don’t leave without me,” he said.

He ducked through the doorway, pulling the door closed behind him, leaving William alone with Lin Mae.

She reached the top of the steps and the two of them regarded one another for a moment.

“I came to say goodbye,” she said finally.

William nodded, momentarily tongue-tied. Then he licked his dry lips and said, “I understand congratulations are in order. General of the North West territory. That’s quite an honor.”

She smiled and nodded at the closed door behind William. “It seems you’ve made your choice.”

William rolled his eyes. “Oh, him? Believe me, I’m already thinking of trading him back for the powder.”

“I heard that,” came a muffled voice from behind the door.

To William’s ears Lin Mae’s laughter was like music.

“Perhaps we’re both wrong,” she said softly. “Perhaps we’re more similar than we thought.”

William felt such a swell of pride and emotion in his chest that for a moment he couldn’t speak. Then he clasped his hands together – the familiar symbol of respect and togetherness and trust. Of Xin Ren.

“Thank you, General,” he said.

Riding away from the Wall, into the Painted Mountains, William paused a moment, reining in his horse and looking back over his shoulder.

Lin Mae was standing atop the Wall, leaning over the battlements, her raven hair blowing in the wind, her armour flashing as it reflected the light.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back?” Pero asked softly.

“Of course I do.” William grinned wryly. “I just don’t trust you to make it out of here alone.”

Pero laughed, and the two men spurred their horses into a trot, and then a gallop.

In a cloud of dust, with the magnificent Wall stretching to each extreme of the horizon behind them, they rode away.

Mark Morris has written over twenty-five novels, among which are Toady, Stitch, The Immaculate, The Secret of Anatomy, Fiddleback, The Deluge and four books in the popular Doctor Who range. He is also the author of two short story collections, Close to the Bone and Long Shadows, Nightmare Light , and several novellas. His short fiction, articles and reviews have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies and magazines, and he is editor of Cinema Macabre , a book of horror movie essays by genre luminaries for which he won the 2007 British Fantasy Award, its follow-up Cinema Futura , and two volumes of The Spectral Book of Horror Stories . His script work includes audio dramas for Big Finish Productions’ Doctor Who and Jago & Litefoot ranges, and also for Bafflegab’s Hammer Chillers series, and his recently published work includes an updated novelization of the 1971 Hammer movie Vampire Circus , the official movie tie-in novelization of Darren Aronofsky’s Noah , and the Shirley Jackson Award nominated novella It Sustains for Earthling Publications.

The Great Wall: The Art of the Film chronicles the making of this landmark East-meets-West production, accompanied by insight and interviews with key cast and crew, including a foreword by director Zhang Yimou.

Packed with fascinating storyboards, sketches, final film frames and behind-the-scenes shots from the set, The Great Wall: The Art of the Film is a stunning celebration of an epic movie that no fan should miss.

TITANBOOKS.COM

The Great Wall: The Official Movie Novelization

Print edition ISBN: 9781785652981

E-book edition ISBN: 9781785652998

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

First edition: February 2017

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

© 2017 Legendary

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.