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

“Zhou, now you,” Boqin called.

“No,” he said. “I want to stay and help.”

“Don't be stupid, boy,” the Emperor shouted. “If we had needed help, there were enough fully trained and experienced
Wu
here to do it. Any of them would be a better choice than you. Stop wasting time and get in.”

Zhou looked at the still circling Boqin, but only a stone cold stare was returned. He jumped in. A shock of cold at first and then the water rose over his head or rather he sank below it. Zhou started to shout in panic and saw bubbles of precious air rise before his face. He clamped his mouth shut as he sank further.

“What is this about, Corporal?”

“I was not informed, sir.”

“Always the way, Corporal. Always the way.” Haung looked up at the late afternoon sky. The sun was obscured by a dark cloud that stretched away to the west. “Looks like it might rain.”

Haung took a sidelong look at the uniformed soldier he walked alongside. He does not look much younger than me, he thought. The corporal’s uniform was neat. He was freshly shaven and his hair was worn in a tidy, short soldier fashion. The spear he carried had a polished haft and, Haung guessed, was sharpened every day, whether it had been used or not.

“Been a soldier long?” he asked.

“No, sir. Graduated from training last month. Promoted to Corporal when I was chosen to serve in the Holy City.” The corporal’s face broke into a wide smile that was part pride and part nerves.

The path they walked towards their destination was clogged with people hurrying about their own tasks, arms laden down with scrolls or boxes. Each one wore a pressured look upon their face.

“A good assignment to be given. Advancement through the ranks could be quite quick if you are lucky,” Haung said.

“I hope so, sir.”

“You didn’t want a posting to the wall or to an active unit?” Haung asked.

“I did, sir.”

“Disappointed that you didn’t get one?”

“No, sir. My uncle says I will learn a lot in the Holy City that I can use when I am given my first command.”

Haung took a second look at the corporal. There was no trace of anything but solid conviction and truth in the young soldier’s voice. A privileged family, Haung thought.

“Every day is a chance to learn something new,” Haung said.

“Yes, sir.”

They walked in silence until they approached a richly decorated door and the two guards who stood outside. Haung noted the plain and purposeful armour the two guards wore. Not the normal ceremonial stuff worn by the palace guards such as the corporal. The two guards carried what looked like their own personal choice of weapons. The one on the left had a pair of slender axes strapped to his belt and the guard on the right was resting on the haft of an upended ball hammer. They looked up as Haung approached, both giving him the same once over he had just given them. He fought the urge to rest his hand on the hilt of his
Jian
sword.

“You can go now, Corporal,” the man on the left said. “We’ll take over from here.”

The corporal bowed low. “Yes, Honoured Liu, Honoured Gang.”

Haung was aware of the corporal’s departure but let his gaze swing to the two men in front of him. The man called Liu was tall and slender though Haung was aware that the height was actually a distraction from the man’s powerful frame. The second man, Gang, was shorter but much wider. His belly was putting a strain on the armour he wore but the way that he picked up the hammer and lifted it onto his shoulder spoke of the muscle below the fat.

“So, you are the trainee
Taiji
,” Gang said as he stepped forward.

Haung bowed but did not take his eyes from Gang’s approach. “I am Haung. Captain Haung.”

“It is good to meet you, Captain Haung.” Gang smiled and Haung could see the man’s brown stained teeth behind the thick lips.

“I’d heard you were a
Jiin-Wei
,” Liu spoke in soft voice.

“I am,” Haung said and then corrected himself. “I was.”

“And, now you are a
Taiji
,” Liu stated.

“Silly tricks,” Gang said and he hefted the hammer, its shaft almost as long as Haung’s legs and the ball on the end larger than his head. “All you need is a good arm and big hammer. All I need to do is hit a man once.”

“But, you need to be able to hit him.” Liu turned from his inspection of Haung.

“I always hit them and when I do they don’t get up,” Gang chuckled.

“But when you miss, you’re open and that hammer of yours is too big to defend with,” Liu said.

“Didn’t you hear me? I always hit them, first and hard. I don’t need to defend,” Gang said. “I don’t need any magic tricks to win my fights.”

“
Jiin-Wei
can be tough, Gang,” Liu said.

“I’ve fought a few in my time. Same as everyone else. One hit with my hammer and it’s all over,” Gang directed a glare at Haung.

“You’ve never fought a
Taiji
though?” Liu leant back against the wall at ease with the hammer-wielding man in front of him.

“Aren’t that many left far as I know,” Gang admitted.

“Ever seen one fight?” Liu smiled.

“Can’t be any different to anyone else. You hit them hard enough and they stay down.” Gang’s smile faded and his hands had tightened around his hammer.

“I’ll assume that’s a no then.” Liu’s smile widened. “Don’t get all irritated, Gang. I am just asking.”

Haung looked between the two men. One appearing to be angry, ready to fight and the other smiling, relaxed. It was clear they knew each other. There was something teasing the back of Haung’s mind. He knew these two from somewhere.

“Why am I here?” Haung entered the conversation to prevent the argument from going any further.

“You don’t know?” Liu asked.

“Leave him alone, Liu. You don’t know either and nor do I,” Gang said. “We got summoned the same way you did. Man in there,” he nodded towards the door, “told us to wait out here.”

At that moment, the door opened and they were beckoned in.

The grey world vanished. Bright yellow sunlight was turned orange by the skin of closed eyelids. A deep crashing sound assaulted his ears. Hands grasped his arms and guided him forward. Cold water swirled around his legs, soaking through his robes causing him to shiver. He reached forward and found an edge of metal. He grabbed it, held on and opened his eyes. All the others stared back at him.

“Where’s Dà Lóng? Where’s Boqin?” they all spoke at the same time.

Zhou took a deep breath before answering. “They stayed on the mountain. Said that they would come through when they had finished.”

He recognised the concern on their faces, it mirrored his own, as Xióngmāo helped him from the bowl. Over their shoulders he could see the mountain. The long, deep valley that bisected the sharp-edged mountains gave a clear view of the southern face. Along the valley floor ran a small stream, too small to have created the valley itself. Either side of the water course, small farmsteads and rice paddies. These were the farmers who provided much of the food for the lower temples. Moving his gaze upwards, he could see the forests of the lower slopes, the crown of the trees spreading out and shading the land beneath with their summer growth. Higher still and the mottled greens and yellows of the broad leafed trees gave way to the uniform brown triangular peaks of pine trees.  From this distance, it was difficult to pick out any of the temples on the mountain. The temple complex of the
Wu
, located on the north side of the mountain, was impossible to see.

“What are they intending to do?” Xióngmāo asked of him.

“I’m not too sure,” he said. “The Emperor spoke of the heart being under attack. I don’t know what they think they can do. The red light was flooding towards the heart when I last looked.”

“The heart is not weak,” she said. “It is far stronger than it appears. It fills the mountain and shines brighter than the sun. It will not be easily destroyed. I don’t think it can be destroyed. It is as much part of the earth as the rock and dirt.”

“Whatever, or whoever, is controlling the red light seems to think differently.” Zhou stared hard at the mountain, letting the vision of the spirit come into his eyes. The now familiar blue flame was still burning at the mountain’s core, but around its base a lake of red had formed. As he watched, the pool of invading red rose higher. He sighed in frustration, hands clenching by his side. “I can’t see what they are doing?”

“They will be trying to commune with the heart,” Shān Yáng, the straggly bearded goat
Wu
, said.

“They can’t,” Xióngmāo said and Zhou felt her hand tighten on his forearm.

“It is all they can do,” the
Wu
said.

“What’s going on?” Zhou asked of them both.

“The heart is alive. It has a mind, thoughts. Not ones that we really understand.” Xióngmāo looked up at him with worried filled eyes. “If we’d had more time in the library I could have shown you the accounts of those who have succeeded in the past and the stories of those that failed. No one has attempted it for more years than I want to recall. Boqin made sure that all the
Wu
knew the risks and had banned it from the mountain.”

“What happened to those who failed?” Zhou asked, turning back to look at the mountain.

“Some died outright. Some kept breathing for many days but never regained consciousness. Others lost their minds completely. They would spend their days gazing at the sun until their eyes went blind, or walk into the deep caves never to be seen again,” Xióngmāo said.

“What about those who succeeded?” he asked, fascinated but scared.

“They came back changed. I knew a few when I was young and the
Wu
more populous. You could see it in their eyes. Something had given them knowledge that was not meant for mortals, even those of us who can live for centuries or more. Some of our greatest scrolls were written by those who came back. Many others left, headed away from the mountain and into seclusion. They could no longer bear to be in the company of others.”

“None of them tried to commune with the heart again? Or explain what they had discovered?” Zhou asked.

“Commune again, no,” Xióngmāo said. “I asked one of those who came back to explain to me what it was like. He tried, he really did, but it would appear that spoken language is not up to the task. It was frustrating for both of us. He would come close to an explanation, you could see it in his eyes, but it would slip away. When it did, he would get angry and storm off. A few weeks later, he would try again to the same result. In the end, we gave up. The strange thing is that it was the same between those who had communed. They never spoke to each other about it. They would go out of the way to avoid the each other. I think they wanted to speak to each other, to compare their experience, but knew they never could.”

“Perhaps that is why they went away?” Zhou said.

“Maybe,” Xióngmāo said. “Evening is coming. It will get cold up here. I’ll get some of the
Wu
to gather wood for a fire. I’m not sure how long we will be waiting. Do you think you have enough energy to hunt for some food?”

“Hunt? I haven’t got anything to... oh,” Zhou paused, abashed. “Yes, I think I can hunt some food for us.”

“Don’t worry. It will still take a few more years to come to terms with everything.” She smiled at him. “In your case, perhaps a little longer.”

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.