The Red Plains (The Forbidden List Book 3) (6 page)

I had them hold him still whilst I went to work. A metal tube packed with shredded herbs went into the wound and I blew for all I was worth. The herbs chosen were to constrict the flow of blood, close of the veins and arteries. There were panicked faces all around as the blood flew out from the chief’s chest, but in a few moments the blood flow lessened.

The new wound, the cleaner one, on his back was cleansed with hot water and I packed the herbs tight into the wound. They would need to work for a time before I could consider sewing up this wound, and that is what I would do. The chief had been lucky, the barb had twisted to the horizontal and had passed between the ribs without more damage. The bandits followed my instructions and pressed the cleanest cloths they had, boiled in the water I had prepared, against their chief’s chest.

I pushed more herbs into his chest wound when they changed the compress and I worried.”

“He wasn’t dead?” Zhou said.

“No, though it was close. I had half-expected his heart to give out when I pushed the arrow through, or when I blew the herbs in. Either one could have killed him, but I didn’t tell the bandits that. The major problem I faced was my inability to access the damage inside the body, without doing more on the outside. The bandits would not let me cut him open to seal the damage inside.

Surgery is the strangest of all medical disciplines. First you must do more damage, cut more flesh away, before you can repair the damage the arrow had done. Then you worked your way back up through the damage you had done, sealing and stitching as you went. A cave with poor lighting was not the ideal place to perform such a delicate task. All I had was herbs and time, I hoped they were enough.”

“You are here, so he must have survived. Why are you telling me this? Is it some sort of allegory that I am missing?” Zhou asked.

“Empire education has its purpose, I suppose. No, it is not an allegory, it really happened. Let me finish and you’ll see.” Yángwū continued, “For three days I changed the dressings, added more herbs, clearing the old ones out of the way, but it was a losing battle. The poison in his blood from the days before they kidnapped me had done more damage than the arrow. It was clear that he was dying. I was just slowing the process down. I didn’t want him to die because I wanted to live. In the end though there was nothing I could do. One moment he was breathing, the next he wasn’t. I tried to bring him back, but it was a vain attempt.

Once the shock had worn off, the bandits didn’t look very happy. I made a dive for the cave entrance, but as you can see I was never a good runner. They were going to make good on their promise. I tried to tell them I had done everything, I pleaded with them, explained it to them. Nothing changed their minds.

They staked me out on the floor and cut all my clothes away. Then they started cutting me. You know what it is like to be hurt, don’t you?” Zhou nodded. “Multiply it by a thousand times, a thousand cuts. They started on my arms and legs, slicing and cutting, letting the blood flow out. When they tired of that, they cut my chest, my stomach and my face. Nothing deep, just painful, excruciatingly so. I was painted in my own blood and I could see what they were doing, every step of the way.

They left me for a bit. It seemed like days, trapped inside my agony.” Yángwū shuddered, a little tremor running through the man’s body. “But the sun didn’t go down and they came back. My toenails first, then my fingernails. They ripped them out and I screamed until I had nothing left. There was sharp, short snap. I thought at first from the fire then a new river of pain ran up my arm and pierced my brain. My fingers, they were breaking my fingers. The very things I made my living from. All that learning and practice was being taken away from me.

I snapped. The anger,  I can still feel it now, rose through me like a wave and I drowned in it. I was reborn in it. You know what it is like, Zhou. The world lost its colour, everything turned to black and white. There were shades of grey, but no colour. Even time seemed to slow down, the pain was there and I drew on it. I made it part of me and I threw it at them. The bandits around me fell back, writhing on the ground. It was exultant, exciting, terrifying, but I was beyond thought.

The bonds holding me down snapped and I stood up. I wanted to feel them die. I wanted them to share my pain. You know how that is don’t you, Zhou? That first rush of power that possesses no direction except to strike out against those who hurt you. Well, I hurt them. I hurt them a lot. I can look back now and feel no pride in what I did. They needed to die, I needed revenge, but using all my training in surgery to hurt and not heal was not a good deed. There is shame still in my heart for that.

You know what happened to me, don’t you, Zhou? It happened to you too, didn’t it.” Yángwū finished.

“You’re a
Wu?
”

“A wild one, at least I was. I was trained on the mountain, just you have been. I lived there for a long time.”

“Then how could you destroy it?” As Zhou asked the question another rumble came through the ground, followed by a much bigger roll of thunder than before.

Zhou and Yángwū were silent throughout. 

The early afternoon retreat, the forced march south through the evening and the wheeling of the stars above had done little for Haung’s mood. Leaving the soldiers behind sat heavy in his heart and stomach. He had condemned them to death as surely as agreeing to the poison. There was, in the centre of conscience, the inescapable question, which choice would have been better for the men. He was not sure he had made the right one, but there was no turning back now. Another hour and they could rest. When they did, he would carry on thinking.

There was no time, no need, to set a camp that first night. The troops would not be given long to rest. Just enough to let the weariness seep from their legs, maybe an hour or two of sleep, a cold breakfast before they would be off again. Marching for the capital, sticking to the road. Xióngmāo had told him the Emperor knew they were coming and the road was the most direct, the quickest, route. It would also be the one the Mongols would use when they mounted a pursuit.

“Two days, Haung,” Xióngmāo had said to him. “That is what they can give. If the Mongol magicians start to interfere it might be less.”

“It is not long,” he had replied.

“It is all you have, make the most of it.” She had softened the words by patting him on the shoulder.

Guilt pressed down on one shoulder and responsibility on the other. When they rested, he needed to talk to his command staff, such as they were. Two famous warriors more used to duels and combating bandits than leading an army, an engineer with no powder left, the puzzle of the other
Taiji
and whomever of the troop leaders had survived the last battle. There had been little time for a head count. The army moved in good order and that was enough evidence that some leaders had made it through, or just promoted themselves into that role by the sheer expediency of being alive and the fact that someone needed to take charge.

For now, for the next hour, he needed to march and to think.

# # #

“How far do you think we have come?” Haung said to the assembled staff.

“Not far enough,” Enlai answered.

For once the
Taiji
was not sat in the shadow of a fire. Even the command staff had to make do with a cold camp. The clouds were not thick, moon and starlight provided enough illumination pick out individuals. There had been some grumbling amongst the troops about the lack of fire and warmth, but troops grumble, it is what they do and it was something of a relief. It meant they were not succumbing to the fear of being chased. Once the troops went silent, when each man would look nervously at the one next to him, when weapons trembled in their hands or they refused to march, that was the time to worry.

“You’ve a tired army, Haung,” said Liu in his soft voice. “They’ve battled on the Wall and now you’re dragging them south.”

“I don’t see that there was much choice, Honoured Liu,” Gongliang said. “Once the Mongols breach the gate they have open access to the whole of the Empire. You can be sure that some will be chasing us, if not the whole army, and just because we are between them and the capital.”

“They catch us in the open and we are going to die,” Gang said, his deep voice rumbling out of the darkness. “They may stink of horse, but they can ride them. And those bows they use? If they play it right they won’t ever have to get into range of our crossbows, let alone my hammer. They can just pick us off at their leisure.”

“We have to get back to the capital. The Emperor will be putting the army into the field and we should be able to meet up with it on the road.” Haung looked around at his staff, his friends.

“We won’t reach them, or them us,” Enlai said into the silence that had followed Haung’s comment.

“I hate to say it,” Liu said, “but he’s right. If the army was rested, if we had horses, even pack horses, we might make a forced march, but every day they are going to go slower and slower. There is only so much the men can give and do, Haung.”

“The men will do as they are ordered,” Gongliang said. “They are Empire troops.”

“They are tired and exhausted,” Gang replied.

Haung drew in a breath, if this group was about to descend into bickering and argument then what was the actual state of the mind of the common soldier. He thought of them, laying out on the cold ground either side of the road. They would each have their own worries and thoughts. And the road, it rose and fell through foothills, small mountains, valleys and across rivers before opening out onto the great plain where the capital sat.

Once the Mongols were on that flat ground the rest of the Empire was open to them. The coastal towns to the east, the productive farmland of the south west, the rich mining mountains of the far west. Here, in the north, if you followed the small tracks and roads a little further east were the tea plantations of Heilongjiang. The face of the musician came into his mind and a few notes of the music, played for the duke, filtered through the haze of his memory.

“We need,” Haung began and then paused, searching for the right words, “to reach the capital or we need to buy enough time for the army to reach us. I am open to any suggestion that gives us the best chance of succeeding in one of those two aims.”

The others were silent, thinking, as a cold breeze started in from the north, flowing down the valley. There was a collective, unconscious sigh from the troops and the rustling sound the coats, uniforms and cloaks being drawn tightly against bodies. Autumn was in full swing and the first hint of the coming winter had made its presence known to everyone.

“There is a small town to the south, at the joining of two rivers that was home to a garrison many years ago, before army moved all its operations to the Wall. It’s fortifications remain, though in what state I cannot say for sure. Resupply wagons and troops are not allowed to stop there, or in any of the towns on the road unless there is a purpose built barracks. The closest of those is a day away, at our current pace, but is not defensible. The town is another day beyond,” Gongliang explained.

“Another wall? Why should we be able to hold that when we couldn’t hold the last?” Gang said.

“The town is smaller, the wall lower, which I know is not a good thing. But think of it the other way, with a shorter wall we don’t need as many men to hold it, we can rotate them quicker and now we know how the enemy fight, we can make preparations,” Gongliang explained. “I have some engineers and I’m sure there are a few things we can do to make it more difficult for them, if we have time.”

“And how long will we have to hold this town?” Liu said. “How long until the Emperor’s army reaches us?”

Haung shrugged and realising that, in the darkness this would not be seen, said, “A few days. We know what lies ahead. This road follows the valley to the plain. There are more valleys off to the sides than have ever been counted, each one has a small road or track that lead to little villages and mountain passes. The Mongols could send units through those and ambush us anywhere along the road. If we are agreed that the men cannot outpace the horses, even with a two or three day lead, then we are left with few choices. First, we abandon the army and let each man fend for himself.” He raised a hand before anyone could interject, hoping they could see the gesture, and carried on speaking. “We all know that it is not possible or desired. Secondly, we find a narrow section of this valley and set our battle lines, make our preparations, in the knowledge that they can stay out of range of our few crossbows and even more limited supply of bolts. They’ll happily pick us off from range and send in their cavalry when they have worn us down. Or, worse still, they will find a path through the mountains and attack us from the rear as well. The third option is the town.”

“We are back where we started if we stay in the town. Stuck behind a wall and this time with no way out,” Gang said.

“True,” Haung admitted, “but we know the Emperor’s army is on the way. We will have gained two or three days of time and on a smaller wall, they can send fewer men at us. I was at Wubei, I know how good a defensive wall can be.”

“Wubei had a magical defence system and it was still destroyed,” Enlai whispered.

Haung took a deep breath, unable to deny the truth of that statement, the tall pillars of smoke rising from the ruined city in his memory and that other scene, the inside of the small house,  children dangling from ropes and their distraught mother. He pushed the memories aside. “If the town is as Gongliang describes, it was built as a defensive garrison and that has to be the best we can hope for at the moment. If we can hold out for a few days, and we may have help from the town, we stand a chance.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’, Haung,” Liu said.

“They are all I have to work with,” he replied. “We make for the town. Wake the troops, get the orders out. We march in an hour.”