The Stone Road (8 page)

Chapter 10

“Again.”

Haung watched as the trainee soldier raised his sword and then swung it in one smooth motion at his sparring partner. The stroke was met with parry and the two moved into a fast moving and fluid dance. It lasted for almost a full minute before the first soldier scored a decisive hit on his partner. They parted and bowed respectfully to each other.

“Well,” Haung began, “it was very pretty. I’ll grant you that, but not much use on the battle field. You, try that again but against me this time.”

The second soldier moved out of the sparring ring. Haung took the padded wooden sword off of him and placed himself in the centre of the ring. He bowed to his opponent who returned the gesture of respect. Raising their swords, they stared into each other’s eyes, the battle of wills before that of the swords.

Then, with only a slight flicker of his eyes betraying his intention, the soldier struck with a high, looping, overhand attack. It was beautiful to watch the sword rise into the air, slicing the sun in two, and then descend in its graceful arc to strike where Haung had stood less than a second before. The soldier stumbled forward when the expected, and trained for, parry didn’t come. Instead, Haung’s sword thumped, hard, into his ribs and sent him crashing down to the floor, struggling for breath. Haung threw his borrowed sword back to its original owner.

“Sword fighting is not a dance, not in battle. You save all that showing off for the duels if you want to. In battle, when you kill, kill quickly, and be ready for the next enemy to come at you. One strike should be all it takes. It’s all you’ll get,” Haung spoke harshly to both trainee soldiers. The one still standing sketched out a quick, shaky bow. The one on the floor was still gasping like a fish fresh from the river.

Haung walked away from the fallen soldier in search of a drink. The training yard was still warm, even in a Yaart winter. Through the halls and corridors he passed servants who all moved out of his way, some giving a short bow. He paid them no mind. In the soldiers’ mess hall, he dipped a bowl into the dark red soup that was bubbling over the fire pit and took a deep drink.

“Since when have you been in a proper battle?” a laughing voice asked.

Haung looked around to see a fellow
Jiin-Wei
enter the hall and he returned a smile, “But they don’t know that do they? And, if it keeps them alive when it comes, they never need to know.”

“True,” his friend said as he took his own bowl and filled it with soup, “still I’ll never understand why you go back to the yard. Once I was made
Jiin-Wei
, I never wanted to see that place again.”

“Spent my whole youth there and it still feels a bit like home. I can see myself in a lot of those trainees. Hell, they aren’t more than a year or three younger than me.” Haung finished his soup, dipped his bowl in the warm water near the fire to clean it and placed it back on the pile.

“That crack you gave him, I remember getting a lot of those when I started out. They can ache for weeks. He won’t thank you, you know.”

“He’ll get over it and perhaps he’ll stop that fancy sword work. I'd bet a private tutor taught him that a few years back when his family were rich.”  Haung dismissed the comment.

“Probably,” agreed the other
Jiin-Wei
. “Anyway, I didn’t come here for idle chatter about training soldiers. The Commander wants to see you right away.”

“And you wait this long to tell me?” Haung gasped. Two weeks without an assignment was a long time for a
Jiin-Wei
but keeping the Commander waiting was not a good thing to do.

# # #

The Commander’s office was almost unchanged since his first visit, the central room with three doors leading off from it. He had never found out where they led to. Curiosity and questioning were good traits for a
Jiin-Wei
but it had to be appropriate.

“Haung, the time has come for us to move forward with our plan.” The Commander was bent over the central table, tracing his finger around the map. “Reports show that the road builders of Wubei are bogged down in the foothills of their mountain home. Our own builders have already completed the first section of the road. Come the spring, we should be at the agreed meeting point in the plains. The number of refugees from the north is increasing as the winter deepens there. All the able bodied men who have turned up at the gate have been drafted into the army or into the road crews.”

“I have seen some of their training today, Sir. To be honest, there are some good men in amongst them but very many who barely recognise which end of the sword to hold,” Haung said.

“To be expected. The northern towns have never been rich and we have worked hard to keep them in their place. In times past, rebellions have been known to start in those towns. We have a permanent garrison there to keep the locals in line. They’re farmers mostly, a few noblemen’s sons, and the occasional miner searching the rivers for specks of gold, usually in vain. However, as I said, it remains a problem area. They are easily excitable and prone to rash actions.”

“We do need troops to bolster our army, and the men can send their wages back to their families. You’d think they’d be grateful,” Haung responded.

“Yes, well, perhaps some are. However, it leaves us with a problem. Not only are there likely to be a few disruptive elements amongst the recruits but I fully expect Wubei to try and sneak a few spies into the groups. Just to check up on us.” The Commander looked up from his contemplation of the map. “Which is where you come in. I want you to take charge of the training of the new troops. You’ll work with the
Fang-shi
apprentices to search out any spies, and you can deal with the malcontents in whatever way you see fit.”

“Yes, Sir,” Haung said, relishing the idea of getting back to the comfort of regular training for a while. “Am I to report to you?”

“No.
Fang-shi
Long will be in charge of the apprentices and take over should any spies be discovered. The troops are yours, though. Here,” Commander Weyl handed Haung a rolled up parchment sealed with a red ribbon and a blob of wax, “this is your letter of promotion to Captain in the Duke of Yaart’s army. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Haung bowed as he accepted the parchment.

“Now, just because you are back in the army for a bit, don’t forget where your true loyalty lies. Long will be reporting to me on a regular basis. Captain you are, but
Jiin-Wei
you will always remain. Draw your uniform from the stores. Dismissed.”

Haung bowed again and left the office.

Three days later, dressed in a comfortable cotton robe over the silk shirt of his Captain’s uniform, Haung stood in front of the latest one hundred men pressed into the army by the promise of good pay, food, and more than likely some threats of physical violence. Beside him stood an apprentice
Fang-shi
who carried a short staff in his hands and a satchel, hanging by its strap from his shoulders.

“Right, this is how it is going to work. In single file, you will approach the quartermaster,” Haung indicated the apprentice by his side, “and receive your coin of commission. You will sign your name, or make you mark, on the paper he provides as a record of your oath to the Duke of Yaart. Be warned, the ink you use is magical and your oath will be binding. If you carry falsehoods in your heart, the ink will know and it will signal us. The punishment for a false oath will be harsh, I assure you.”

Haung paused to give the troops a hard stare and then he waved the first one forward, watching as the man approached the sorcerer's apprentice who stood behind the desk. The apprentice placed a pre-prepared sheet of paper in front of the man and handed him the brush pen. With a trembling hand, the man dipped the brush into the ink bowl and shakily signed his name. The ink stayed as ink and there was an audible sigh, echoed by the other recruits, from the man.

Four more times this happened. When the fifth shaking and nervous man approached, he took the brush, dipped it into the ink and drew the character for his name. As he handed the brush back the ink on the page hissed and bubbled giving off an acrid blue smoke. Guards grabbed the man and dragged him, kicking, screaming and pleading his innocence into the dark room behind the desk. There was more shouted pleading and then a chilling, bone grating, scream erupted from the doorway followed by silence. The guards re-appeared, wiping their daggers with sword-cloth and replacing them in their belt scabbards.

Haung inspected the recruits from behind an impassive face. Three or four were retching and at least one had painted the training yard floor with their meagre breakfast. He stood there watching as man after man approached the ink with dread, white faces and shaking limbs. By the time they were halfway through a soldier, dressed in the uniform of a corporal approached Haung and bowed.

“How was I, Captain?” The soldier smiled at Haung.

“Four were sick at least. The scream was very well done,” Haung smiled at his fellow
Jiin-Wei
. “Very convincing.”

“Good. The bloody make up was tough to get off. Things we do, eh?” the fake corporal said.

“True. Did you pick up anything whilst you’ve been amongst them?” Haung asked.

“Not too much. Certainly they like to complain about their lot and why they should train to fight when they have come here just to survive. But, that’s pretty normal for soldiers. I don’t think that any have true intentions of causing any difficulty beyond the normal trainee stuff. However, there is one amongst them who's a little bit quiet for my liking. He turned up in tent-town on his own. One morning he was just there. I couldn’t find out much about him from the others but he seems to get along with them all. You know, he joins in the complaining but never goes too far, talks about his family but never very much about them. More a listener than a talker and, as far as I can gauge, that isn’t the way the northerners do things.”

“A Wubei spy?” Haung asked.

“I’m not sure, it’s possible. I’ll keep an eye on him through the training. None of the men I spoke to are trained to the sword so, if he is better than he should be, I think we can safely say he is a spy.”

“Well, I suppose that might be one give away,” Haung said. “Has he been through yet?”

The corporal scanned the fifty or so men still left to go through, “That’s him, right down near the end, about four in from the last man.”

Haung took a careful look at the possible spy. “You think he has had any special training in the art?”

“If he is anything like us, then probably. Much as I hate the arrogant bastards of Wubei, I can’t see any good reason not to pick and train their own
Jiin-Wei
the way we do.”

“I was thinking the same. Tell the apprentice to be careful of that one, use enough to make him feel it, if he can, but don’t push it. If we have him marked, perhaps we can use him at a later date.” Haung rolled his shoulders and gave a little chuckle, “I thought that a little soldiering would be a relief from the intrigue and secrets.”

“Haung, if you were just a soldier you’d be safe from it but you’re not. You’re a
Jiin-Wei
and an officer. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on with it, you know you enjoy it. Now, I’d better see to this apprentice before he blows someone up.” The corporal gave the appropriate bow to a superior and then moved over to speak to the
Fang-shi
.

Haung did not move or relax his stern visage as the last of the men went through the signing process. The suspect spy confidently made his mark on the paper and moved off to collect his kit along with the other trainees. Haung rubbed his chin with his right hand, his left thumb tucked into his belt close to his sword, and pondered the situation. Was he too confident when he signed or was he just unconcerned because he had nothing to hide. In the end, he couldn’t decide which one it was so settled for keeping a very close eye on the man as the training progressed.

He turned away from the kitting out process and headed off the training field to get some food and rest. A flicker of motion seen from the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head sharply. On the balcony above the yard he could see the long dark hair of a girl moving away and though he couldn’t see her face, he knew she had been watching him. He shook his head, more secrets and intrigue. More things he didn’t need and, worst of all, he had a good idea who had been watching him and it was a distraction that could lead to disaster.

Chapter 11

“I assure you, the road is coming through here. Now, it can be with your assistance and you’ll be recompensed for the land you've lost. Or it can be the other way and they will see the smoke for miles.” Zhou forced his voice to stay cold and purposeful though every word tasted rotten in his mouth.

The village leader, a tall scrawny man with a rather too large mouth, stared back into Zhou’s eyes, “Your surveyors had prettier words but we understood them all the same and we’ll give you the same answer as we gave them. This is our land, it’s been fought over more times than even the oldest of us can recall. We’ve always farmed it. You won’t be no different, but we are not moving. This is our village.”

“I wish you would see it differently. The road is our route to peace and after thirty years of war neither side is going to let a small village get in the way. This is the last chance to choose your own destiny. The road will be here within three weeks and either you will have moved aside or you will be swept away. For what it is worth, I am sorry it must be this way.”

“You can shove your sorry’s right up your...” the wide mouthed leader began.

“Yes, I thought you would see it that way.” Zhou gave the villager a sad smile then raised his voice to address the other villagers, “You have three weeks to gather up your belongings, and be gone. Do this and you will receive compensation to start anew elsewhere. It is your choice, just don’t let others make the wrong one for you.”

Zhou swept his gaze across the crowd, meeting the eyes of as many villagers as he could. Then he turned, climbed astride his horse and led the troops he had brought with him on a slow paced walk out of the village. There was every chance that he, or one of the troops, would feel an arrow in the back. If they were lucky it would just be a shouted insult or a hastily found pebble instead.

# # #

The winter slush was fading from the road but the soil was still soggy and the horse’s hooves sank into the soft earth. He dragged leather gloves out from his belt and pulled them on over numb fingers. He inspected the gloves wistfully, the last gift his wife had given him before he had to leave for the road. The stitching was beginning to fray and the palms were wearing thin under the constant chafing of the reins but he had resisted the temptation to replace them.

A few hours later, Zhou and the troops reached the construction camp at the furthest extent of the road foundations. At the camp margins, he dismissed the troops and dismounted from his horse. The ground here was slippery and keeping his balance was difficult. Holding onto the bridle for safety, he led the horse through the crew’s tented area and to the corral of horses where he handed control over to the horse-master.

“You shouldn't have banned riding in the camp. The mud is ruining your expensive boots.” Wang’s voice was loud behind him. “You get anywhere with those stiff-necked idiot farmers?”

“For a loud, brute of a man, Wang, you move more subtly than a whore's fingers into a priest's purse.” Zhou turned to see Wang’s gap toothed smile, it wasn’t a pleasant sight. “But, to answer you, with some I think and nowhere with others. Anything happen whilst I was gone?”

“Nothing much. The men have worked hard all day, reports and tallies are on your desk for signing.” Wang had mellowed since the winter started to warm towards spring. The site was safer and they hadn’t lost any more men to disaster or illness. “Had a visit from the road crew chief who reckons he's less than a week behind us now and catching fast. I think he’s liar and a cheat, but I don’t reckon he’s much further away than he says. Now we're coming onto the plains proper we can get back to full speed, long as there is no more snow. Three months more work, I’d say, till we’re at the meeting point.”

“And if they catch us up, they can bloody well help with the foundations and clearing,” Zhou said as he slid and slipped through the tents towards his own.

“Won’t happen.” Wang’s voice was full of confidence.

“They won’t catch us?” Zhou had to grab at the guide rope of a tent to prevent him falling into the dirt.

“Oh, they’ll catch us. Winter saw to that but I reckon it won’t be for two months, two and half if we’re lucky. No, when they catch us up they won’t help. They’ll pitch camp near us and no doubt bring chairs and drinks out to watch us work. It’s what I’d do.” Wang chuckled to himself.

“I’ll speak to the Bureaucrat in charge. We’ll work something out,” Zhou said as he moved the flap of his tent aside and entered.

“You don’t know then?” It was clearly a rhetorical question and Zhou raised an eyebrow. “Hsin’s nephew has been put in charge. Think they are all for catching you up and rubbing it in.”

Zhou slumped onto the bed and dragged his boots off, throwing them into the empty corner. The only chance he had of getting some position back was to finish the road foundations on time and ahead of the second crew. His father-in-law, whose position in the government had taken a big knock over the mission to Yaart, would not be happy if he failed in this.

“We can’t let them catch up. Wang, whatever work can be done by lantern will be done. Double the shifts and increase the pay by a quarter in recompense. We will not be caught.” Zhou held his feet up to the stove and steam began to rise from the socks he wore. “Anything else?”

“Well, we got hit by another bandit raid early on today. No one seriously hurt but they cost us half a day. These raids continue and even if you made the men work every hour of every day we wouldn’t stand a chance of making the meeting point on time.”

Zhou looked away from the comfort of the stove flame and focused on his travel chest. “Get reports from the men attacked. I want to know everything, numbers, direction they rode in from and rode out to, what weapons they had, armour, state of horses, what they said. Anything the men can recall. I’ll ride perimeter with the troops tomorrow but by evening I want that information. We are going to do something about those bandits, and keep doing something until they’re either all dead or smart enough to stay clear.”

When Wang had gone, Zhou opened the chest and took out, from underneath a pile of dry clothes, his armour. Dark green leather, stiffened by hard boiling and lacquer insets, held together with bronze studs and soft leather strapping. Reverentially, he hung each piece on the clothes stand. The feel and smell brought back memories of his early days training as a diplomat. A diplomat that couldn’t defend himself was a dead diplomat, his teacher had said, not everyone wants to be negotiated with. Some people preferred to let their swords do their wheeling and dealing.

# # #

The following morning dawned misty and cold but at least there had been no fresh snow. Zhou pulled on a double layer of cotton shirts and trousers, the latter he tucked into thick socks. Taking a deep breath and exhaling a resigned sigh, he began strapping on the armour. The leather creaked with underuse but it was well made and fit him as well as it had done when he’d had it made just before leaving for Yaart the first time. Last of all, a heavy woollen cloak which he draped across his shoulders and fastened at the front with a soldier’s clasp, designed to be strong enough to withstand the wind but if tugged hard enough, would give way leaving the enemy soldier holding the heavy cloak whilst he rode to safety, or cut the soldier down, whichever was most appropriate at the time.

As he left the tent heading for his horse, he finished tying his belt and securing his dagger in place. In his right hand he held the diplomat's weapon, a thin but stout staff of wood about four feet in length and capped at either end with iron. It could double as a walking stick but that was just a cover for its real purpose.

“Horse-master, saddle my horse and get rations for two days.” Zhou waited in the cold air, breath turning to steam in front of his face.

It was a short walk to the troop’s tents where he met the corporal in charge of the small contingent the road builders had to guard them. After a quick conference, they mounted their horses and rode away from the camp with the troops in tow.

All morning they patrolled a semi-circular perimeter about three miles out from the camp. Even though they were on the plains it was not entirely flat and the undulating terrain made it entirely possible that enemies were never far away, hidden just below the low hills. So, every so often Zhou and the rest of the patrol would double back on their tracks or canter a zigzag route to ensure they covered all the ground possible and they would not be surprised.

As the sun burnt off the mist they could see further and further. Around midday, the range of their vision had expanded to a mile in all directions. Too little for the telescope Zhou had brought along to be any use, “Corporal, I think it is time we stopped for food.”

“Of course, Sir.” The corporal reined in his horse and signalled the rest of the soldiers.

Zhou dismounted and staggered to the small fire over which the troops had started to warm their food. He winced at each step, an ache racing up and down the inside of his thigh, a feeling that someone had driven an iron spike into both hips. Probably a blunt one at that, he thought. Worse than the pain in his legs was the numbness between his legs and he had a quick check to make sure everything was still there.

“Don’t sit down, Sir,” one of the soldiers near the fire said, “Best bet is to keep moving, get the blood flowing again to parts that haven’t seen it in a while.”

Zhou winced again, “You sure?”

“Oh, aye, Sir. If you ain’t been on a horse for a while it can take your body and... um... bits a little time to get used to it. If you sit down, everything will just lock up and when you go to move its gonna hurt a hell of a lot more than seven lashes. Well, either that or you won’t be able to move at all.” The soldier spoke through grey stubble, “I've been doing this a long time, Sir.”

“Then I’ll take your advice. Thanks.” For a moment, Zhou felt that he belonged and shared something with the commonest of men. He shook himself mentally, probably didn’t want me to share their fire, he thought. Zhou kept moving, accepting a bowl of watery stew from a different soldier and limping across the grass to stand near his horse to eat.

He was spooning the gravy into his mouth with a rough cut wooden spoon when they came over the low hill, looking as surprised as he was that anyone was out here. Their hesitation did not last long. They screamed and charged down the rise towards the troops. The troops from Wubei leapt to their feet, drew swords and formed a short line to meet the charge.

Zhou was the slowest to react. He chucked his bowl of food away and as the first of the bandits closed on the troops, he dragged himself into the saddle of his horse kicking it into a run towards the edge of the Wubei line. His troops were outnumbered, it was clear. But even through fearful eyes, he could see that the bandits were not trained warriors. They did not fight as one unit as they broke against the Wubei wall.

Raising his short staff in one hand, he clung onto the reins with the other and ploughed into the bandits. The combat trained horse did not flinch as it ran down the first man in its path. In slow motion, Zhou watched the man’s face turn from anger to panic and then to pain as the horse rode over him. He followed the path of the body under the horse’s hooves, saw the chest cave in and blood burst from the mouth. The carcass was spewed out the other end like a lump of half-chewed gristle.

The second bandit jumped out of the horse's path and aimed a sword slash at its legs. The horse squealed in agony and buckled. Zhou was thrown clear, landing belly down on the soggy ground and continuing to slide across the mud before coming to a dazed halt. He spat out mud as he scrambled to his feet, casting a quick glance around to see where he stood in the battle.

The bandit who had killed the horse was advancing on him now. Straight, double edged, sword weaving back and forth in front of a face that was familiar, the grinning mouth was just a little too wide.

“Well, well,” the farmer-bandit began, “look who it is. The little bureaucrat man. You know, about ten years ago, Yaart owned our village and they pressed all the men into service, trained them to fight. Three years I fought for them against the Wubei. I still have my sword. Come on, take a closer look.”

Zhou looked around for help but each of his soldiers were hard pressed fighting the remaining bandits. He wiped mucky hands down his cloak and took a two handed grip on his staff.

The bandit’s first swipe was too short but it forced Zhou to jump backward. His back foot slipped on the mud. The bandit advanced, sword extended in front of him, stabbing at Zhou’s belly. Turning his left hand and letting his right slide down the staff to meet it, Zhou took a swordsman’s grip on the staff and parried the bandit's attack. He returned a swing of his own which, being off balance lacked power, thumped into the bicep of his enemy with a satisfyingly meaty sound.

The bandit backed off a step, rubbing his upper arm, as Zhou regained his balance. The next attack was more cautious, a series of jabs and thrusts which Zhou avoided. He continued to back away from the sword, his eyes fixed on those of the bandit who was beginning to smile again. The thrusts changed to slashes, shoulder to hip, hip to hip, and Zhou was forced to parry and deflect them away. The tip of the sharp sword finally broke through his defence and bit into his upper arm, between the leather plates.

“You’ll bleed a lot more before...” the bandit’s words ended in a grunt and he pitched forward to rest, face down, in the churned mud.