The Stone Road (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

“Again!”

Haung stepped back into first guard position. Sword held in right hand, pointing from waist height towards the sun. Opposite, his opponent took up the same stance. Then Haung skipped forward, sword lunging towards the belly of the other soldier. It was knocked aside with a downward sweep and Haung retreated.

“Better. Again!” The instructor barked.

Time and time again, Haung and his opponent carried out the same lunge and parry drill. The weather was hot and Haung could feel the spring sun burning his bare scalp. Eventually, the order to stop and rest was given.

Haung slid the sword into its scabbard and put this on a clean white sheet. His aching legs carried him across the yard, edging past soldiers still engaged on their own drills, to the water barrel situated in the far corner. He dipped the drinking bowl into the barrel. The water was warm but welcome. He drank some more then poured the rest over his head, adding more moisture to the sweat that dripped down his face and plastered the shirt to his skin.

“Haung!” He returned to his sword and instructor. He bowed low, “Gather up your stuff and report to Commander Weyl at once.”

Haung gave his instructor a startled look.

“Don’t just stand there gaping, boy. You’ve been given an order. Get a move on.” The instructor’s voice was harsh but then softened, “and for the sake of Jade Heaven don’t embarrass me when you get there.”

Haung nodded, folded the white cloth around his sword and at the edge of the practice area turned to bow once more.

Inside the castle, the heat abated though humidity increased. Haung dodged his way through the crowds of people who were moving back and forth, going about their own important business. One soldier amongst them was merely an annoyance, a fly to be swatted.

Commander Weyl’s office was in the Advisors’ section of the castle. For all that the Commander was a soldier, he was also a renowned scholar and gifted historian. Weyl was not one to be kept waiting. Haung, ducking past one scroll laden scholar, collided with and knocked over a servant girl. Her clay jar tumbled from her hands and smashed on the stone floor.

“Sorry,” Haung called back as he moved on.

“You will be, Haung.” The girl’s voice followed him down the corridor.

He slowed as he approached the Advisors’ section of the castle and, regaining his breath, made sure his tunic was properly belted. The two guards who stood outside the entrance stopped him.

“Where are you off to young man?” the first asked.

“I’m Trainee Haung. I have orders from my instructor to see Commander Weyl.” Haung waved the white swaddled sword as evidence of his status.

“We’ll check. But first you’ll need to hand over that sword. No one goes into the Advisors armed,” said the second.

“But we’re told never to give up our swords. They are our responsibility,” Haung answered.

“And we’ll look after it for you. Tell you what,” the guard shared a smile with his colleague, “you can take the cloth in with you and leave the sword with us. That’s half an’ half, a good deal in my books.”

Haung squinted at both guards trying to puzzle out what to do and then, behind the guards, he spied another man marching quickly towards the gate.

“Guards, has Trainee Haung shown up yet? We sent for him ages ago and the Commander is waiting.”

“He’s here, Cai. I'm just getting his sword off him,” said the first guard.

Cai looked Haung up and down and then spoke, “Hand your sword over, Trainee, we haven’t got time to hang around.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.

Haung thrust his bundled sword into the waiting hands of the guards and ran to catch up. Cai didn’t speak to him again on the walk through the castle corridors. Light entered through narrow windows as they passed door after door until they reached the large, iron studded door at the very end. Haung watched as Cai rapped on the door then, without hearing or seeing any response, opened the door wide and gestured that Haung should go first.

The room beyond was empty save for a desk stacked high with piles of paper, a chair and, behind these, a spiral stair case. Cai gave the muddled desk a disapproving look, “Go up the stairs, to the top. Knock on the door and wait to be invited in. Speak when spoken to, do as asked and answer truthfully.”

Haung, now on his own, did as asked and began to climb the stairs. There were no exits leading off of the stair case as it spiralled upwards and it took much longer than he had expected to reach the promised door at the top. He knocked twice and, after waiting, was about to knock again when it opened. A short man with thinning hair and wire framed glasses balanced on his small nose beckoned him in. Haung bowed before crossing the threshold into the richly decorated room. The room was circular and there were three other doors leading off from it. In the middle of the room, a square table with seven chairs arranged around it. On the table Haung recognised a map depicting the province of Yaart and the surrounding lands. Just like the tactics classes that all trainee soldiers had to attend, there were, dotted around the map, small groups of figurines, each a different colour to represent the General in charge. There were other figurines, all coloured red, denoting the location of enemy troops and some were augmented with a small label giving further details or indicating which report to reference for information. Partly obscuring the corner of the map was a silver tray on which lay a selection of fruit, a slab of cheese and some small slices of bread.

“Trainee Haung is here, Commander,” the small man spoke.

“At last. I am not accustomed to being kept waiting,” the deep voice emanated from the open door to Haung’s left. “Please take the tray but leave the bowl of fruit, Marbu.”

“Of course, Commander. Will you be needing anything else?”

“Not until General Huran arrives, Marbu. Until then, we are not to be disturbed.”

“Of course, Commander.” Marbu bowed, even though Haung could not see the Commander through the open door, and left the room.

Haung stood to attention, hands clasped behind his back and weight centred above his two sturdy legs. He was silent and still, eyes focused on the wall straight ahead. Though immobile, he strained to pick up any clues of the Commander’s movements. Small sounds, scratches and clinks, came from the direction of the door.

“Well, Trainee, at least you can stand to attention properly,” the deep voice Haung had begun to associate with the Commander came from directly behind him. He almost jumped out of his skin in shock. “However, your hearing and situational awareness does need some work. I should never have been able to get this close without you knowing. We will have to work on that.”

“Yes, Sir,” Haung responded.

“And to put your mind at rest, the noises you hear from the room are wind chimes next to a partially open window and my pet canary in its cage. Simple diversions, I grant, but sometimes the simple ones work best.”

The Commander walked around to stand in front of Haung, “No sword?”

“No, Sir. The guards outside wouldn’t let me in with my sword,” Haung said.

“It is good to see such commendable duty from them. However, didn’t your instructor command you to never be without your sword?”

Haung risked a glance from the far wall to the Commander. Almost as tall as me and with a stocky build that must once have been all muscle, he thought. The clothes, though, were something of a shock. A simple, white tunic with plain black trousers that tucked into ankle height boots. A battered leather belt with a dagger scabbard on the left side and a hook for another scabbard on the right. In the duke’s court such clothing would only be worn by a functionary or low ranking advisor.

“He did, Sir.”

“Then why did you disobey his orders? Have you brought shame upon him for your failing to follow his teachings?” The Commander circled Haung, “Is this how you show your respect?”

“Sir, I meant no disrespect to my teacher.” Haung fought the rising guilt.

“Meant? Perhaps you did not, Trainee Haung, but it is what you have shown. Is it not?” The Commander paused in his circumnavigation.

“Sir, the guards informed me that I would not be permitted into your presence armed with my sword. The administrator who guided me to your door also inferred that this would be the case.”

“So?” the Commander prompted.

“So I made a choice, Sir. I chose to follow the order my teacher gave to me which was to meet with you. This order came, first, from your honourable self through the chain of command to my teacher and then to me. As you are the Commander and higher in rank than my teacher, I decided that your orders superseded his and I had, therefore, no alternative but to give up my sword, Sir.” Haung's voice sounded loud in the room and, to his own ears, there was a tremble of nervousness.

“Interesting.” the Commander sat in one of the chairs at the table. “You are correct, of course, but it is interesting to hear your reasoning. Do the orders of superiors always negate the orders of lower ranked officers?”

“Orders are orders, Sir. I have been taught to follow them to the full,” Haung stated.

“To the full?”

“Whenever possible, Sir.”

“Whenever and possible in the same response. Interesting, Trainee Haung. Not only did you not answer my question but you evaded a direct answer. Why, Trainee?” The Commander picked up a piece of fruit and inspected it.

“Sir, I meant no disrespect. I answered as fully as I am able. My teacher taught me never to tell a falsehood so it was in that manner that I answered.” Haung could feel sweat start to form on his forehead.

“Another thing that you will need to learn, Trainee Haung. Falsehoods are sometimes useful in our line of work. However, you are wise to tell the truth whenever possible and certainly to superior officers. There are times when part of the truth can be more of a lie than a lie itself. You must learn when to use each. A lie can be found out but a partial truth can misdirect and even when discovered has the benefit of honesty about it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Haung answered.

“Now, Trainee Haung, I have a proposal for you. Feel free to say no.” The Commander drew the dagger from its scabbard and cut into the fruit, carefully dividing it into neat, even sections. “Understand, Trainee Haung, that I cannot order you to do this. It has never been the way of this offer and traditions such as this must be respected.”

“Sir?” Haung quickly wiped the sweat from his forehead as the Commander selected a piece of fruit.

“Reports from your teacher, and the investigations I ordered, revealed some interesting facts about you, Trainee Haung.” The Commander picked up one of the fruit pieces, popped it into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Haung waited, at attention, for him to continue. “Firstly, you are an excellent fencer who, with proper training, could be turned into an excellent fighter.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Haung spoke into the pause in the Commander’s speech.

“Oh, don’t thank me yet, Trainee Haung. You haven’t heard me out and you need to before you respond.” The Commander turned his gaze on Haung who, for the first time, looked into those piercing green eyes. Unusual for the people of Yaart who were dark-eyed in the main. “Secondly, you have no family that my investigators can discover. It appears you were abandoned at the door of the barracks and raised an orphan. Not unusual in times of war but that we can find no trace of parentage, even with our most experienced investigators, is very strange. Every orphan is checked, Trainee, did you know that? The duty of parents is to raise their children, we take abandonment very seriously. The punishments can be quite severe. Lastly, you are quick witted and intelligent. An unusual trait in soldiers, I find. By your age, we have normally beaten out the propensity for individual thought and reason. We create soldiers to follow orders, not to think.”

Haung’s legs and back, held in a rigid stance and worn out by the morning’s training, were beginning to ache.

“My proposal, then, is simple. I have need, as does the duke, of trained fighters who can think on their feet, who can take orders, follow the chain of command and know when to act on their own. These soldiers work for me alone. They must sever all ties with any past life or family, though this should not be an issue for you. They become my eyes, ears and sword when needed. They report to me, they follow my orders. They cannot marry, unless I say so. They cannot father a child or lay with a woman, unless I say so. They may not live in a house or purchase one, unless I say so. Their life is under my control, totally. However, there is the chance to play a part in the larger world, to act alone on matters of importance, and to be well paid. There are chances for promotion, based solely on merit, not on coin and influence. I am offering you a chance to join the
Jiin-Wei
, Haung. The choice is yours but I will have your answer before you leave this room.”

Haung dug his fingernails into the palms of his clasped hands. The offer was unexpected, the
Jiin-Wei
were a mysterious group and though not much was known about them they were called Dog-rats by the common soldier. Dog, because they followed their master wherever he went and lapped up orders like the best milk. Rats, because they scurried about in dark places, sewers and gutters, gnawing away at people, spreading fear and disease. It was said you were never more than six paces from a listening
Jiin-Wei,
closer if what you had to say wasn’t complimentary towards the duke or the court. Haung had heard enough to know that they were respected and feared but not well liked. Aside from this, the Commander was watching him with calculating eyes and a firm hand on the dagger he had used to cut up the fruit.