Wen Bei awoke in a cold sweat, his joints ached, and he struggled to draw a full breath, when he exhaled there was a crackling from his chest. ‘How goes the dam building?’ he asked to whoever was in ear shot.
His tent sentry entered and saluted. He was barely a man, his helmet oversized on his beardless face, ‘The dam is complete, General. Digging on a lake has begun to gather the water.’
‘Shouldn’t that have been done first?’
The sentry faulted, gasping for words.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Wen Bei fell into a coughing fit. His throat burned as he hacked up his lungs. Blood splattered onto his knuckles.
‘I will summon the doctor for you, General,’ the sentry bowed and ran from Wen Bei’s tent.
He thinks I’m dying, Wen Bei lay down and thought of his wife and children, his elderly parents, his youngest sister, yet-to-be-married, and wondered who would care for them if he were to die. His Imperial Majesty would not allow them to be destitute, besides my beloved is from a wealthy family and she is more than able to manage… and our sons are rising in the administration. All will be well. Sleep stole him soon after.
Zhou Shang pitched camp at the mouth of the valley overlooking Xiangpi. Such a location was only possible because he had lost three quarters of his initial force, had he still commanded 100’000 troops he would have had to descend into the forests and even onto the plains which would have left him open to attack. The mouth of the valley was fortified with palisades and watch towers with archers stationed at all parts of the day, if they were attacked they could hold position for a spell or retreat and nullify the enemies superior numbers. Zhou Shang assumed the rebels had superior numbers, reports had varied over the months and year as the traitors had gathered at Xiangpi, some said as many as a million had gathered, others no more than 250’000, though many were untrained peasants and vagrants. Either way the Imperial Army would be hard pressed to find victory.
From atop the forward watch tower he could spy the additions and improvements made to the north facing walls. The rebel commander, a man still shrouded in mystery, had increased the height by at least ten zhang. The gates had been strengthened with iron bars and scouts rode or marched around the city both on the walls and the grounds inside the moat. A unit of cavalry circled the city every few watches, swapping on the third, throughout the day and night. General Zhou Shang knew he had been expected.
On the first day he had sent scouts to search the forest and quickly located Lu Liang’s camp. The general was preparing for a siege, building new engines and organising sappers to dig beneath the moat as well as constructing bridges to cross it. All this please Zhou, all save the fact General Lu was late in beginning the assault.
Wen Bei had yet to arrive either and so far nothing unusual was occurring with the River of Fallen Stars.
Mount Chang Cao pierced the distant horizon, a pale grey pyramid against the azure sky. It would be many days before General Cai reached the road that clung to the foot of that mountain. All Zhou could do was ask Heaven to grant him safe passage. Beyond that he tried not to think about what happened after the siege, if there was an after.
A few days had passed and General Zhou met with General Lu at a midpoint between their camps in the vast forest surrounding Xiangpi. Pleasantries were exchanged and the significant events that had plagued them both along the march. General Lu Liang had escaped practically unscathed compared to Zhou Shang. Neither had heard from Wen Bei.
‘We need to begin the assault within two days. Our food is running low and the supply lines are stretched thin, baring nothing impedes them,’ General Lu Liang said. He sat on a tree stump, his cloak wrapped round a gauntleted arm. Four soldiers stood behind him.
‘I have a couple of carts of grain going spare given our recent losses, I will have them sent over. On the matter of the siege, you’re correct. How comes the siege engines?’ General Zhou Shang paced between two withered paper birch trees, their bark flaking in white sheets. His two bodyguards stood with the horses, out of earshot so they could hear for potential enemy scouts.
‘The mangonels we have will work wonders. I am having the engineers construct an extra level to the towers as well as build more moat bridges. We were unprepared for the scale of the city, the Imperial Library is out-of-date, can you believe it?’ General Lu shook his head. ’No matter, we know now and can adapt.’
General Zhou tensed when Lu spoke, his words bordered on treason. ‘Well, now we know. I have 10’000 archers to assist in whatever you need.’
’10’000?’ Lu scratched his chin. ‘Not enough, even with my 25’000. General Wen should arrive soon enough.’
‘He had the worse terrain.’
‘True but he also only had infantry.’
‘Let us wait and see if the river changes first. Once that happens we can estimate where General Wen is,’ Zhou had a pit in his stomach, something told him Wen Bei and his army were dead or dying. A rebel ambush had gotten them, like the one that had nearly finished him off. He found it suspect General Lu had encountered no such thing on the roads. Zhou Shang had a sudden sense of dread and exclaimed, ’Tomorrow, at dawn. Have your sappers begin digging in the night.’
‘General?’ Lu Liang gasped.
‘We have a rebellion to crush,’ General Zhou Shang marched off towards his horses without waiting for a reply. There was no discussing the point, nothing further could be added. Prolonging the inevitable only made the slim chance of success even slimmer and, judging by the patrols, the rebels were unaware Zhou and Lu were encamped in the forest, a situation that would not last forever.
The River of Fallen Stars had been reduced to a trickle. A new lake had been dug, named Starhome. Within hours Xiangpi would see her life source dry up, her wells dry up, and the small ships in the docks sink to the river bed. The dam would not hold forever and the lake would eventually overflow, even with the thousands of men digging all day, every day, to expand it in every direction.
Wen Bei heard all this from his cot. A cold, wet cloth across his head. Incense burned in the four corners of his tent and around his head, creating a nauseating fog the doctor promised had healing benefits. The doctor, Jia Huajie, gave Wen Bei the same ashen expression his guard had. The one that said, you’ll be dead soon. Only Wen Bei still lived after many days of being bed bound, for the second time. He wondered why Heaven had seen fit to cure him of one disease only to strike him with a miasma mere days later. He did not ponder it long for Heaven’s Will was not for a lowly man such as himself to understand.
‘That’s all that has occurred, General. Should we march?’ Lieutenant-General Dong Zhi finished his report.
‘That will be your decision. Think of the men, do not waste their lives.’
‘General, do not speak like that. You may yet recover, others have. Our infirmaries are emptying, though we have lost a great deal of soldiers to the various diseases of the swamps there are still more than 50’000 capable of fighting,’ Dong Zhi knelt at Wen Bei’s bed, staring at the wooden floorboards.
‘I appreciate your sentiment but command will pass to you when I die and you must be prepared,’ Wen Bei sighed. ‘But now I am tired, leave me to rest.’
‘Of course, General,’ Dong Zhi saluted and withdrew from the tent. The flaps closed and Wen Bei closed his eyes ready to accept death.
General Lu Liang mounted his steed as the first of the moat bridges rolled through the forest. The road had been poorly maintained, likely due to the rebel occupation which had stretched on for over a year. Ahead of the first moat bridge were three mangonels and 10’000 spearmen armed with tower shields. The spearmen also had assault covers, massive wooden contraptions on wheels with hide rooves, which they would use to cross the bridges once the towers were in position. But first the infantry had to defend the mangonels from potential cavalry charges. General Lu rode at the head of one of his units of horsemen. The 2000 men would assist the spearmen in protecting the siege equipment by encircling any rebel force foolish enough to attack. Lu Liang had ten such units with man and horse well rested and battle ready.
It was impossible to remain hidden now and General Lu expected an attack on his troops at any moment, whether in the trees or out on the grasslands. He would have preferred to observe the state of the river, to assess the condition of Xiangpi’s walls some more, and maybe have a few men sneak inside and find out the sentiment of the people. None of that was possible now that Zhou Shang, General who Quells Uprisings and Commandant of the Campaign to Uproot Rebels, had ordered an attack. Lu Liang’s army was the main hammer for that command, Zhou’s own army utterly ravaged in the narrow valley road. An obvious trap, Lu thought.
Lu clicked his tongue and his steed set of at a trot, his 2000 cavalry shuddered to a start behind him. A siege tower rolled along behind them, the wheels grinding against the recently worked earth and time-worn stone. While the sappers had begun digging under cover of darkness, Lu Liang had ordered the lumberjacks and those with even a pearl of experience to carve a path through the forest wide enough for the siege equipment. The road was already there but many parts were overgrown, the trees hemming the ancient stone slabs, many cracked and had been uneven. He hoped once the rebellion was defeated and Xiangpi returned to the harmony of the Empire that the Son of Heaven would restore such roads that the ancestors had bequeathed.
The canopy curled overhead like long, slender hands. The fresh light of the morning rained down on Lu in spots and speckles. The clatter of horses echoed behind him while the grind of wheels droned on ahead and behind him. He had yet to hear the clash of steel but he was still a few li from the plains surrounding Xiangpi.
Battle had begun at the edge of the forest. Lu Liang’s spearmen held a line across the road and up along the sides in order to fend off attacks by a cobbled together force of rebels wielding rusted swords and chipped pikes. Lu kicked his mount into a gallop and yelled for his the horsemen to ride with him. He led them off the road and weaving through the trees. Charging down the right flank of his spearmen he quickly overran the rebels and burst out into the field. The ragtag force scattered. He swung his jian sword left and right, hacking through traitors with every swing. None fought back. Lu Liang paused and saw that few had full sets of armour, most had parts, a helm here or a leather vest there. It was only then he realised they were not rebels but commoners from the city forced to fight. ‘Halt! Do not harm the people! Loyal subjects of His Imperial Majesty, lay down your arms and all will be forgiven!’ It was too late.
The people scattered after the first cavalry charge rent their formation apart. A clatter of tools hit the earth as men fled in all directions, but while those who had suffered at the hands of Lu Liang’s cavalry took flight many others continued to fight, and die. The spearmen concluded their task with a grim efficiency, slaughtering wave after wave of people forced to fight. Lu Liang brought his horsemen to bear on the enemy and he continuously shouted for them to surrender and be spared, that the Emperor’s forces were here to save the city and its people.
The commoners did not listen. A few broke away or threw down their well-worn weaponry but most fought on, committed to the grim end.
As the fighting drew to a close Lu Liang had the surviving enemies rounded up and he went to question them. One man stood taller than the rest, his hair pinned in the cap of an aristocrat. ‘Why are you here? Why are you fighting us?’ The tall man stood proud, his lips downturned and slightly pinched, revealing wrinkles along his top lip and round his nose. His clothes were tattered and full of moth holes, his hair, while pinned, had started to tangle and was stringy with grease and grey streaks.
‘We are being forced to.’
‘How?’
‘They take our families and say they will execute them if we return before victory is achieved.’
‘What will happen now?’
‘I imagine the streets are soaked in blood,’ the aristocrat did not flinch from the grim fate of his family.
‘Did they take—‘
‘Yes. Wife, son, daughter, and my sister,’ he aged a decade as he said it, yet still he stood proud and did not cry. He stared into the middle distance and after a few heartbeats caught Lu’s eye, ‘I can help you. Let me help you.’
Lu Liang peered through the cluster of captured commoners. Most were farmers or labourers. There was a blacksmith, his hammer his weapon, and a few sailors, plenty who would know the interior of the city. ‘Why you?’
‘I grew up, lived my whole life, in that city,’ he pointed over his shoulder without looking. ‘Most here know the streets and avenues, the side passages and where the patrols are lax, but I am the only one who knows the Old Palace District where the rebels have set up their command base.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Pang Huan,’ the aristocrat raised an eyebrow as if to say, you should know the family name.
Lu Liang did not recognise the name, ‘Ahhh, I am Lu Liang, General of this army. I should give you a fair hearing, but be warned. If you attempt anything my guards will kill you without a second thought, so you better not be an assassin.’
‘Unarmed and honest, I swear on my ancestors,’ Pang Huan raised his rope bound hands. Lu Liang sliced through the bonds and led him away.
General Lu Liang waited before telling Pang Huan about the maps of Xiangpi from the Imperial Library because he wished to test the man’s knowledge. Lu’s carriage was a ways down the road, though he despised using it it did help when orchestrating battles from afar. Upon the wide four wheeled platform, with canopy, was a table with rolled up maps. ‘Tell me, which gate is closest to the Old Palace District?’
‘North Gate. You can see the palace from here,’ Pang Huan turned and pointed, ‘See those tiered rooves, that is the palace, practically in front of us.’
‘Won’t that be heavily defended? Would be easier to attack the south gate and fight through the city,’ Lu Liang said. He knew it wasn’t true but he had to check Pang Huan’s understanding and knowledge.
‘That… will not work. While the South Gate is lightly guarded, the road heading north is not. There are checkpoints at the edge of every district with a full contingent of elite soldiers at each. The [rebel leader] has instigated a messaging system to allow these units to rapidly defend each other should the city be breached,’ Pang Huan said, without hesitation. ‘The North Gate is heavily defended but once through there is only one guarded checkpoint before the palace. A swift attack will render the messaging system usual and you’ll be able to take the rebel’s head without issue.’
‘Forgive me if I am skeptical of such a claim. The palace will be thick with elite soldiers, no?’
Pang Huan hung his head, ‘It will. You are correct. Unlike the ragtag you defeated today those soldiers are properly fed and equipped, but they are few in number.’
‘How few?’
‘Only a couple thousand, at most ten thousand. Though not all are stationed at the palace, a good many are protecting the treasuries and other vital locations scattered about the city.’
This was information Lu Liang did not have. ‘What vital locations?’
Pang Huan gave pause. ‘In truth, I know not, I have only seen numerous soldiers patrolling certain areas of the city more than others.’
‘You’re guessing,’ Lu Liang sighed.
Pang Huan nodded and bowed his head, hand over fist toward Lu Liang. ‘I am guessing, you’re right. Forgive me, general.’
‘What of the east and west gates?’ Lu Liang was convinced Pang Huan wanted to provide information and to assist. Rumours about how the rebels were treating the gentry were beyond cruel so it would be natural for an aristocrat to assist the Emperor’s army.
‘Sealed.’
‘Sealed?’
‘The rebel leader had them nailed shut, bricked up, and then packed with mud and clay,’ Pang Huan said.
‘Why would… this rebel do that?’
‘Because he is uncertain of his position. Xiangpi is a magnificent city but situated in a wide plain with only a narrow moat. A well equipped army, such as yours, would be able to surround Xiangpi and reduce its stout walls to rubble. The river has dried up, the ships sit on the silt, useless,’ Pang Huan bowed again to show deference.
Lu Liang was less confident of his ability to totally surround the city, though to hear the river was dried up gave him courage. The sappers had not reported anything yet. ‘Who is this rebel then?’ the identity of the rebel leader had long been theorised about and attempts at divining their identity had failed.
‘I do not know,’ Pang Huan said. He sighed, his eyes glazing with disappointment.
‘Have you ever seen him?’
‘Only once, from afar, when he first marched into the city. I don’t remember there being anything remarkable about him.’
‘Nothing?’ Lu Liang agreed with the rumours that the rebel was a scion of the Imperial House, a cousin of the Emperor or perhaps an unaccounted for half-brother from a concubine. Such things appeared in the Histories, though rare.
‘He was perhaps thirty, slender, but I could not make out the features of his face, my eyes have deteriorated in recent years, and he wore similar armour to his commanders save for his helmet was plumed with peacock feathers.’
‘That is something at least, but not enough to identify him,’ General Lu said. ‘Enough, remain here, accommodations will be made.’ The army lingered at the edge of the forest. No other force had emerged from Xiangpi and no patrol had rode past, a surprise to Lu Liang. He stormed from the tent, ‘Advance! Begin the siege!’ he shouted.
The drummers took up the order immediately, launching into a rapid rhythm. The soldiers roared into action, the mangonels groaned to life. Lu Liang hurried to his horse, ordering the man holding the reins to drop to the ground on all fours so the general could use him as a step. He slapped his mount’s neck and galloped toward the vanguard.
Wen Bei lay on his cot soaked in his own sweat. He shivered yet felt he was bathed in fire and he could not feel his legs. Jia Huajie’s prognosis was death, nothing could be done. General Wen Bei had accepted his fate, written letters for his wife, children, his sister. Death would have claimed Wen Bei by the time the letters were read. Command had fallen to Dong Zhi.
A servant held a sponge heavy with water to Wen Bei’s lips. He bit into it, sucking a sip of water from it. He panted from the effort. A twitch of his finger and the servant shuffled away, face downturned. Wen Bei spat the water out, unable to swallow, his vision blurred and his thoughts frayed, drifted, and faded into mist. Death swallowed him.
Thanks for reading!
This short story grew to a 3 parter and over 10’000 words. Part 3 will appear next week, in the mean time why not catch up on The Mage Hunter:
