Tao jumped to his feet. What had he done? He had told Jilong to come to Luoyang for the express purpose of engaging the bandits in battle. He always imagined that, because she was a girl, Pema would be a spy or a messenger for the bandits, not a fighter. But there she was bleeding on the battlefield. The image faded, but in his mind he could still see the pool of dark red blood and Pema’s unblinking eyes. It was the look of someone who had died in terror and pain. Tao had given Jilong the advantage in the coming battle. And he had sentenced Pema to death.
He recalled all the visions he’d had. He must have misread one of them. Surely his second sight, which sprung from his connection with Kai, wouldn’t have told him to leave the dragon behind and to endanger Pema’s life? He wished Kai was with him. He would have stopped the panic rising. He had to go back to free the dragon. The image of Pema was still clear in his mind. His faith in his ability as a seer was fading. Before he could free Kai, he had to warn Pema.
Tao banged on the door. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He didn’t want the guard to know how terrified he was. The door opened.
“I need to pee,” Tao said. “It’s urgent.”
The guard held a bone in one hand and a cup of kumiss in the other. He pointed the bone towards the latrine. Tao hurried along the corridor. The guard drained his cup before following him. Tao turned a corner, broke into a run and lost the man. He wasn’t going to the latrine. He had to get to the White Horse Temple and stop Pema from taking part in the battle. On foot it would take too much time. He didn’t have a horse, but somewhere in the garrison there was a dragon. A dragon with wings.
Tao found where the horses of Jilong’s personal guard were stabled. Sunila was there too, but while the other horses each had a bucket of dry grass, the naga had a bucket of tree frogs. He was no longer starving, so he was enjoying the game of waiting until they tried to escape before he pounced and ate them.
“Sunila, I need your help. I have to get back to the compound. If you make yourself invisible, we can escape before the moon rises. Will you take me?”
The naga was wearing a new harness. There was a red diamond-shaped jewel on his forehead. Smaller jewels studded his breast harness. He sat up as if to display this finery.
“Please, Sunila. Pema will be killed if I don’t do something.”
Tao was about to remind the naga how they saved him from starvation, when Sunila speared a frog that was trying to escape, using one of his sharp middle talons. Tao knew he was wasting his time. He had told Jilong that he would gain Sunila’s allegiance if he provided his favourite food and gave him gifts of shiny things. The warlord had taken Tao’s advice, and the naga was now loyal to him.
It was almost midnight. The battle would begin shortly. Pema’s life was in his hands. Tao had wasted valuable time trying to get Sunila to help him. The moon would be rising above the city wall at any moment. The nearest gate was the Great Xia Gate, but that was right alongside the garrison. He couldn’t risk running into Zhao soldiers who knew him. Images of the city before it was destroyed floated up from his memory. The houses around the palace ruins were where rich people had once lived. The Huan house was a few streets back from that area, but Tao had played in those streets as a child, wandered the alleyways behind the grand houses while his mother visited friends. Those mansions were now in ruins, the alleyways littered with rubble, but Tao knew the way. He zigzagged through the back alleys towards the West Brilliance Gate without being seen.
There were no more guards patrolling the wall than on any other night; Jilong didn’t want the Black Camel Bandits to suspect that there was an ambush. The two guards were peering into the darkness, looking for any sign of attacking bandits, straining their ears for the sound of galloping horses, the whistle of speeding arrows. But crouched behind the parapet were other Zhao soldiers, waiting to spring up when the bandits approached. More soldiers were stationed out of sight inside the gate. Just as Tao had hoped, these were soldiers from the garrision who didn’t know him. They had been waiting for hours, and they were getting restless. They were sitting down, passing around strips of dried meat and a skin of kumiss.
Tao slid along the crumbling yellow earth wall, towards the gateway. In his worn clothes and straw sandals, he could easily pass as a citizen of Luoyang. He smiled when he came to the carvings he had seen in his vision. All Zhao are stupid melons. Jilong is a pig-faced son of a rabbit. The darkness gave him cover and he silently slipped out through the gate.
Then he was outside the city. The rim of the moon appeared over the wall. Tao broke into a run, still hoping no one had noticed him. He couldn’t see the White Horse Temple, but he knew that it was not much more than a li to the west. He hurried in that direction, aware that he was still in arrow range of the men on the wall. But before he had gone more than fifty paces, he heard galloping horses behind him. The guards on the wall were more vigilant than usual. Of course they had seen him escape. He ran, although it was pointless. He stumbled over a rock, fell, got up again and continued to run. Moonlight illuminated the white walls of the White Horse Temple that were now only a few chang away. He stopped dead. He realised he had led the Zhao right to the Black Camel Bandits’ hiding place.
A Zhao commander behind him shouted an order. “Halt!”
The sound of the galloping horses stopped. Tao couldn’t understand why he’d been given this reprieve, but he was going to take it with thanks. He started running again. His rasping breath hurt his throat. But then in front of him he saw a line of about fifteen foot soldiers, dressed in black, their faces masked by black cloth, all but their eyes. Tao couldn’t see how many ranks of men were behind this frontline. Pennants with the black camel emblem fluttered in the moonlight. He’d only seen them in a vision before, but now the Black Camel Bandits were there in the flesh. At the sound of a command, they drew their swords. Tao turned to flee, but behind him the dozen men of the Zhao detachment sent to capture him were in battle formation. There weren’t many of them, but they had an advantage. They were on horseback. The bandits, who were prepared for a fight within the city walls, were on foot.
Orders to attack rang out from both sides. The men, whooping and shouting, leaped forward at the same moment, one side on horseback, their opponents on foot, rushing headlong towards each other. Tao was between them, but no one was interested in him. He looked to the right and to the left for a way to escape, but there wasn’t time to get out of their way. The night air was suddenly full of arrows. The horses and men were closing in on him, and he would surely be trampled.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
TRAITOR MOON
The enemy forces met with a clash of weapons. Tao was surrounded by chaos. Swords slashed through the air and sliced through limbs. Lances dug into flesh. Bodies fell all around him. Horses’ hoofs stamped the earth. One horse stepped back, rammed its rump into Tao and kicked him in the chest, bruising his ribs and knocking the breath out of him.
Tao had brought about this confrontation. Men would die tonight because of him. He remembered the visions that led him to this point, trying to think how he misinterpreted them. Arrows whistled past his ears. He fell to his knees and folded his arms over his head, as if they could protect him from the shower of arrows. A thought hit him like a blow to the head. He hadn’t misinterpreted his visions. They had kept Kai safe, away from the conflict. Tao had made the mistake of trying to use the visions for the wrong purposes. He still was, though deep down he knew it wasn’t possible. If he didn’t get to the White Horse Temple and warn Pema, she would die.
He crawled towards a clump of trees, away from the fight. He had no interest in the battle, if it could be called that. He could see now that there were no other ranks behind that first line of bandits. It was an insignificant skirmish that would soon be forgotten. If the two bands of men chose to kill each other, it was not his concern. He had no allegiance to either of them. His focus was on saving his friends. If he reached the trees, he could skirt around the fighting
men and make his way to the temple. He could warn Pema and then return to Kai and beg his forgiveness.
Tao was almost at the trees. Apart from the kick in the chest, he had managed to get away unscathed. There was still time to put everything right.
Then he heard a voice, a familiar voice. Moonlight was filtering weakly through clouds. When he struggled to his feet he could make out a small figure on a horse, shouting orders at the Black Camel Bandits. It was Pema. He couldn’t understand why she had the authority to give orders. Zhao soldiers were galloping towards her, their swords glinting in the pale moonlight. Tao called out to her, but his chest hurt and his feeble voice couldn’t be heard above the noise of the battle.
Tao had no weapons, not even his staff to fend off blows. But Wei’s qi was ready, as if waiting to be summoned. He closed his eyes and felt the qi surge inside him. At last, it was at his command. He couldn’t kill people with it, but perhaps he could disarm those who were trying to kill him. He thrust his arms into the air and felt the qi radiate from him. For the first time in his life, he felt strong. But the qi didn’t explode from his fingertips in powerful bolts. Instead, it gently drifted up into the night air in slender threads and seeped down into the damp earth through the soles of his feet. Those thin strands didn’t have the power to rustle leaves, let alone disable a nomad soldier.
The Zhao had almost reached Pema before she saw them. She called to the bandits for help, but they were struggling against the mounted soldiers. Tao ran into the path of the Zhao to slow them, but they didn’t notice him. A horse knocked him to the ground. He lay there, winded, horses’ hoofs thudding all around him, churning up the earth.
But his qi was still flowing out of him.
Where his cheek lay against the ground, he noticed crumbs of churned-up earth start to shift a little, as if something below was stirring. Lumps of soil were pushed aside and crawling insects emerged from the ground. Just a few at first but then there were more – slaters, huge ants with snapping mandibles, cockroaches, and stag-beetles as long as his finger. There were huntsman spiders as well, emerging from under rocks. Soon there were hundreds of wuji. They were responding to the gentle strands of his qi.
The insects were crawling up the horses’ legs and onto their riders. Moths were gathering above them, some no bigger than a fingernail, others with a wingspan as wide as a spread hand. They flew at the soldiers’ eyes. A cloud of mosquitoes descended on the men, sucking blood from any exposed skin. On threads of spider web carried by gusts of wind, hundreds of spiders drifted from the surrounding trees, settling on the nomads’ faces and hands. There were fat-bodied black spiders, green ones with spiky legs, and the familiar yellow-striped orb spiders. The Zhao soldiers stopped their attack. In fact, all fighting ceased as men from both sides furiously tried to brush off the insects that were crawling inside clothes, into mouths and up noses. They yelped and scratched at bites. Despite the pain in his chest, Tao smiled. This was his qi power, effective but not deadly.
Something swooped down from the night sky. It was Sunila with Jilong riding him, a plumed helmet on his head. Jilong was yelling, Sunila was roaring. Together they made a terrifying sound that made the bandits turn and run. Tao would have expected stronger discipline from the men who had won back towns from Jilong, but he hoped Pema was retreating with them. Sunila’s scales glowed pale silver and his mane streamed behind him, a shade of grey in the weak moonlight seeping through the thinning clouds. His huge horn was the most luminous part of him. Jilong, in his metallic armour, was like an extension of the naga. He yelled at his men, directing them where to attack so that they could kill more effectively. Sunila was flying too high for the winged insects to reach Jilong as he fired arrows down on his enemies, most of whom had dropped their weapons as they tried to rid themselves of the wuji.
Then the traitor moon moved into a break in the clouds. It was past full, but it seemed huge. A shaft of moonlight shone right on the spot where Tao was crouching. Jilong saw him. He wheeled Sunila round, fitted an arrow to his bow and aimed it at Tao. The warlord hesitated for a moment. He might have been weighing up whether he needed a seer or not. One of the Black Camel Bandits rode up, stopping between Tao and Jilong. The moonlight shone on the rider. Blue eyes glared down at Tao.
“Get on the horse,” Pema shouted.
Jilong recognised her. The hatred in his eyes was visible, even from that distance. He let loose his arrow, but it wasn’t aimed at Tao. He would deal with him later. Pema tried to get her horse to move, but it reared up, startled by Sunila. The arrow dug deep into the horse’s thigh and it fell to the ground. Pema managed to leap clear. She scrambled over to Tao, grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.
“Get away, Pema,” Tao shouted. “I can take care of myself.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
Sunila had circled wide, and was too far away for the warlord to get a good shot. While Jilong was struggling to get the naga to turn and dive at them, Tao and Pema ran. The warlord slung his bow over his shoulder and, drawing his sword, dug his heels into the naga’s flanks and leaned forwards to make him dive. Sunila swooped above Tao’s head. Tao caught sight of something he’d seen in one of his visions – a red boot clamped to a dragon’s silvery hide, and on the toe of the boot a scorpion tail. He only glimpsed it as it flashed past, but it looked as if the scorpion tail was moving, crawling off the boot and onto the naga’s scales. Sunila let out a screech. He broke out of his dive and soared up steeply again, swerving from side to side. Something had spooked him. He looped above the battleground. Jilong clung to the reins and the straps held him fast. Sunila swooped down again, still screeching. While everyone else was watching the aerial antics of the naga, Tao and Pema kept running.
Something dropped from the air and lodged in Pema’s hood. Tao stopped to pick it off. It was a huge centipede. He realised that he hadn’t paid enough attention to the vision that had told him Jilong would ride a dragon. The warlord had worn scorpion tails on his red boots as decorations before, but now they were unadorned. What he’d seen in the vision was a centipede. It had responded to the call of his qi and crawled onto Jilong’s boot before the naga took off. Like all dragons, Sunila was terrified of centipedes. Unaware that it had been dislodged, he was still streaking through the air, shaking each leg in turn, which made him pitch from side to side. He shook his head furiously, no doubt imagining the centipede was crawling into his ear. And then he turned upside down. Jilong clung to the reigns as his arrows and sword fell to the earth. One of the harness straps holding Jilong broke, but his grip on the reins and the other strap across his shoulder stopped him from falling.
Tao held up the centipede for Sunila to see. With his excellent eyesight, the naga saw the creature in the moonlight. Jilong was berating him, but Sunila was calmer now. He reached up with one of his back paws and with his dextrous three toes he managed to undo the buckle securing the remaining strap. Then he did a backflip. Jilong plummeted headfirst to the ground and landed with a thud. Sunila righted himself and flew towards the rest of the Zhao. They fled as he chased them away.
Tao let out a whoop of triumph. “Sunila is still with us!”
The ten members of Jilong’s personal guard galloped onto the battlefield. Without the advantage of winged steeds they had lagged behind their leader. Astride their black horses, with red plumes rippling, they looked as magnificent as ever, but their faces were grim and pale. They had seen Jilong fall from the naga. Their job was to protect him, and they had failed. They left fighting the bandits to the other Zhao soldiers and turned their attention to Tao and Pema. Word had spread quickly that Tao had betrayed the Langhai, and they all remembered the girl who had tried to murder their Chanyu.
Zhao reinforcements also arrived, at least forty of them. The bandits were now completely outnumbered. Sunila wheeled above them, breathing mist and creating a cloud that covered the moon. He screeched and then torrential rain fell from the sky. The battlefield was soon a sea of mud. T
he bandits, almost invisible in their black clothes, had the advantage as they ducked around the Zhao horses, which were struggling in the mud. But one of the Zhao was swinging something around his head. It was a length of rope with two metal balls on the ends. He let it go and the balls flew through the air and the rope wrapped around the naga’s feet. This threw him off balance. His flimsy wings couldn’t compensate and he tumbled to the ground. Tao couldn’t see where he fell.
The rain stopped, the cloud dispersed and the moon lit the muddy battlefield. Tao saw how few bandits there were, no more than fifteen, and some of them were wounded.
The Zhao were riding towards them.
“Call for reinforcements!” Tao yelled to Pema.
“There are no reinforcements.”
“But there must be more.” He couldn’t make sense of this.
“I have to stand with them,” Pema said.
Tao held her back. “They can take care of themselves.”
“No, they can’t. When I returned from Chengdu, the Zhao had a tighter grip on the city than ever. I couldn’t go back to my home. I recruited my own band of soldiers from the boys of Luoyang.”
“So you are their leader?”
“Yes. It was my idea to wear black, and we met in a house in Bronze Camel Street. That’s how I came up with the name.”
Pema shook off Tao’s hand and ran towards the bandits.
The moonlight revealed Tao alone and exposed. Jilong’s personal guard were the most disciplined Zhao soldiers, the best trained. Their moon shadows led the way as they galloped towards Tao and formed a circle around him.
“It’s his fault,” one of them said, unsheathing his sword. “It was his idea that the Langhai ride that creature. And now he’s dead.”