Lords of the Bow. Conn Iggulden
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scurried to obey, the water bucket landing with a clang and spinning untended as they rushed back to the wall. Liu sighed to himself, before concentrating on the task at hand. No doubt the Uighurs would be made to pay for the attack when the king heard about it. In the peaceful lands of the Xi Xia, it would be the talk of the court, perhaps for months. Trade would be strangled for a generation and punishment raids would be sent out against every Uighur settlement. Liu had no taste for that sort of war and he considered asking for a transfer back to Yinchuan city. They always needed good guards with experience.
He gave crisp orders to a dozen spearmen to follow him and walked down the cool steps to the outer gate. From the inside, it looked untouched by the assault and, in the shadow of the walls, he considered the fate of anyone foolish enough to break it down. He would not like to be among them, he thought. It was second nature to him to check the inner gate was secure before he raised his hand to the outer locking bar. Sun Tzu was perhaps the greatest military thinker the Chin had ever produced, but he did not consider the difficulties of greedy men like Shen Ti giving the orders.
Liu took a deep breath and pushed open the door, letting in a beam of hard sunlight. The men behind him shuffled in readiness and he nodded to their captain.
‘I want two men to stay and guard the door. The rest of you are to collect useable shafts and anything else that might be valuable. If there is trouble, drop it all and run for the gate. There will be no talking and not one of you will go more than fifty paces, even if there are emeralds the size of duck eggs lying in the sand. Acknowledge my orders.’
The soldiers saluted as one and their captain tapped two on the shoulder to remain on guard. Liu nodded, squinting out into the sun as his eyes adjusted. He could not expect high standards from the sort of soldier who ended up in the fort. Almost to a man, they had made some error in the standing army, or offended someone with influence. Even Shen Ti had made some secret error in his political past, he was sure, though the fat man would never unburden himself to a common soldier, no matter what rank he held.
Liu let out a long, low breath, checking a mental list of the defences. He had done all he could, but still there was a feeling in his bones that he did not like. He stepped over a body, noting that the man wore armour very similar to his own. He frowned at that. There was no record of the Uighurs copying Chin armour. It was rough, but of serviceable quality and Liu found his sense of unease growing.
Ready to leap back, he trod heavily on an outstretched hand. He heard a bone break and, at the lack of movement, he nodded and went further out. The dead lay thickest near the gate and he could see two sprawling men with arrows through their throats. Heavy hammers had fallen near them and Liu picked one up, propping it against the wall to be taken in on his return. It too was well made.
As he narrowed his eyes on the end of the pass, his men fanned out, stooping to pick up weapons from the sand. Liu began to relax a little, seeing two of them yanking arrows from a body that resembled a porcupine from the density of the strikes. He strode out of the wall’s shadow, wincing at the sudden brightness. Thirty paces ahead of him lay two boxes and he knew Shen Ti would be watching to see if he found something of worth in them. Why the tribesmen would have brought gold or silver to an attack Liu could not fathom, but he walked across the baking sand towards them, his hand ready on his sword. Could they contain snakes or scorpions? He had heard of such things being used to attack cities, though usually they were thrown over the walls. The tribesmen had brought no catapults or ladders on their assault.
Liu drew his blade and dug the point into the sand, levering the box onto its side. Birds erupted from the confined space, soaring upwards as he threw himself back in shock.
For a moment, Liu stood and stared at the birds, unable to understand why they had been left to bake on the sand. He raised his head to watch them fly and then comprehension dawned and his eyes widened in sudden panic. The birds were the signal. A dull rumbling came to his ears and the ground seemed to vibrate under his feet.
‘Get back to the gate!’ Liu shouted, waving his sword. Around him, he saw his soldiers staring in shock, some of them with armfuls of arrows and swords. ‘Run! Get back!’ Liu bellowed again. Glancing down the pass, he saw the first dark lines of galloping horses and he turned to the gate himself. If the fools were too slow, they had only themselves to blame, he thought, his mind racing.
He skidded to a halt in horror before he had run more than a few paces. Around the gate, some of the bodies were leaping up, still with shafts lodged in them. One of them had lain perfectly still while Liu broke his hand under his sandal. Liu swallowed his panic at the thunder growing at his back and he began to run again. He saw the gate begin to close, but one of the enemy was there to shove his arm into the gap. The tribesman cried out in agony as his hand was hacked to pieces inside, but there were others with him to wrench it open and fall on the defenders.
Liu raised his voice in a howl of rage and never saw the arrow that took him in the back of the neck. He tumbled onto the sand, feeling its sting even as the darkness came for him. The inner gate was shut, he was certain. He had seen it closed behind him and there was still a chance. His own blood choked off his thoughts and the sound of hooves faded to nothing.
Tsubodai rose from where he had lain in the sand. The arrow that had felled him had been followed by two more lodged in his armour. His ribs were agony and every step brought fresh pain and the warm sensation of blood trickling down his thigh. The canyon was filled with a sound like thunder as the galloping line came in at full speed. Tsubodai looked upwards as he heard bows thrumming and saw black shafts darting down. A horse screamed behind him as Tsubodai saw the gate was jammed open by bodies and staggered towards it.
He looked around him for the ten men Genghis had placed under his command. He recognised four of the figures rushing at the gate, while the others lay still on the sand, truly dead. Tsubodai swallowed painfully as he stepped over a man he had known from the Uriankhai.
The sound of riders grew into a force at his back until he expected to be hammered from his feet. He thought his wounds had dazed him, for everything seemed to be happening slowly and yet he could hear each laboured breath from his open mouth. He shut it, irritated at this show of weakness. Ahead of him, those who had survived the assault were rushing through the gate with swords drawn. Tsubodai heard the snap of bows, muffled by the thick stone of the wall. He had a glimpse of men falling as they went through, spitted on arrows as they looked up and cried out. At that instant, his mind cleared and his senses sharpened. Arrows still sank into the sand around him, but he ignored them. He roared an order to stand back as his warriors reached the gate. His voice was rough, but to his relief, the men responded.
‘Make shields of the wood. Take the hammers,’ Tsubodai told them, pointing. He heard the jingle of armour as men leaped to the sand all around him. Khasar landed running and Tsubodai grabbed his arm.
‘There are archers inside. We can still use the broken wood.’
Arrows vanished into the sand around them, leaving only the black feathers. Calmly, Khasar glanced down at Tsubodai’s hand just long enough to remind the young warrior of his status. As Tsubodai released his grip, Khasar snapped out orders. All around them, men picked up pieces of the original shield and held them over their heads as they rushed through the gate.
As the hammers were taken up again, archers above their heads shot into the pit between the two gates. Even with the rough shield, some of the shafts found their marks. On the hot sand outside, Khasar ordered waves of arrows up against the archers on the outer wall, keeping the Chin soldiers down and spoiling their aim until the army could move. He bit his lip at the exposed position, but until the inner gate was broken, they were all stuck. The dull thump of hammers sounded over the cries of dying men.
‘Get in there and make sure they aren’t enjoying a quick rest while we wait,’ Khasar shouted to Tsubodai. The young warrior bowed his head and ran to join his men.
He passed under a band of shadow into bright sunlight and had a glimpse of a line of cold-eyed archers shooting shaft after shaft into the killing hole.
Tsubodai barely had time to duck under a piece of broken planking. An arrow scratched his arm as he did and he swore aloud. He recognised only one of his original