But he knew a little now. The second volume of the books from Leng discussed the fog.
He ordered a soldier to the wagon that carried the materials bequeathed to him by the prime minister, and the man returned with the book placed in a satchel. Jiang Wei verified that it was the right volume before slinging the heavy bag over his shoulder. Now he just needed a suitable view of the battlefield.
Jiang Wei called over one of his lieutenants and said, “I have a few preparations of my own before the Wei vanguard reaches the pass. I should be back shortly, but if I do not return before the ambush begins, I need you to take your horsemen to reinforce Yang Yi.”
Some of the men cheered, believing that he would pull off a stunt equal to that of Zhuge Liang, but Jiang Wei knew better. He was not his mentor. But Shu had done much for him, given him a home when his own had cast him out.
Jiang Wei would do what he must.
He rode his horse to an outcropping on the southern side of the pass and carefully dismounted, holding his bladed spear. The bamboo slats clacked as he unfolded the centuries-old script and laid the book at his feet. Jiang Wei drew his knife and prayed for his parents’ forgiveness, as he had no animal that he could sacrifice in this moment of need.
In a patch of dirt he drew what the book called the Sign of Qi, written with the character for air or vapor. The sign itself did not match any word he knew and the sight of it made him shiver. There was a strangeness in how the lines came together, making angles where there should be none. He could look at a portion of it and it was just a symbol, but to look at the whole invited a sinister impossibility.
Jiang Wei sliced the fat part of his hand with his knife and clenched it into a fist, squeezing drops of blood on to the Sign of Qi.
In the next moment, mist writhed from the shadows of the peaks and sloughed down the mountains as a thick cloud. It hid Yang Yi’s men from the Wei army below, and a moment later, hid the rest of the world from Jiang Wei.
Then the howling began.
Their voices did not sound like any wolves he’d heard, and he could hear the sound of feet slapping against stone and dirt. For beasts, they did not seem interested in hiding from their prey.
Jiang Wei could barely see the ground beneath him, and sidled close to his horse, but the mare reared and screamed, eyes rolling white, and nearly kicked him as she plunged back down and galloped into the fog. It was not like her. He looked at the sign he had drawn, blood filling the crevices in unnaturally even measure, except where a single stamp of his mare’s hoof had ruined it.
He wasn’t sure if that changed anything, any more than he had expected that the fog he called would cover him as well. It was thicker than what he remembered seeing around the overlook where Yang Yi’s men were hidden, and he had an eerie suspicion that the fog around him was different. He had not fully read the books from Leng.
Jiang Wei lifted his spear and swept it ahead of him. If there were wolves, he would not be easy prey. He carefully retraced the path he had taken, and when his spear did not touch anything, he knew the way was clear.
Ahead of him, something smelled. Oily, like burning fat. A moan broke through the fog, followed by a soft cackle and the squelching of something wet. Jiang Wei did not remember signs of anyone else on his way up the mountainside, nor did the noise-maker seem particularly intent on remaining hidden. Uncertain of his — or its — allegiance, Jiang Wei crept toward the shuffling and smacking, taking care to prod the air with his spear so he would not walk into something he could not see. The fog had been so dense at first that he could not make out anything past arm’s length, but as he grew closer to the sound, he could see it thin. A little more of his spear came into view, then more.
Shapes formed in the mist. Hunched and bony, and clothed like beggars in old silks, they squatted around a pile of soiled clothes that they picked at with clawed, red hands and canine teeth. Slop dripped from their jaws, and they lapped it back up with long, sinuous tongues.
The pile moaned, and as Jiang Wei neared, he saw that it was still human in shape, though soft, as though the flesh would not hold to the bones. The air no longer smelled solely of fat, but of blood as well. And the silk hat that sat atop the head of the quivering mass, the feathered fan that lay beside the body... He recognized them both.
“Prime minister!” Jiang Wei shouted.
It should not be possible. Zhuge Liang was dead. Jiang Wei had seen the placement of the body in its box himself.
He did not know what the creatures were, pale-skinned with the bodies of men and the faces of wolves, but he charged at them. It did not matter if it was six against one, not if the prime minister was alive.
The group scattered, howling, some of them on two legs, others on four. Jiang Wei had heard of beasts of such advanced age that they became demons, but despite their silk robes and the jade pendants he now saw hanging from their throats, these creatures did not give any appearance of wisdom. Just savagery.
He caught one with the blade of his spear and it writhed away with a hiss. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another leap at him, and he bludgeoned it with the butt of his weapon. His spear gave him a good reach — he often wielded one from the back of his horse, and any part of it could be used to attack or defend.
Jiang Wei dodged a slavering pair of jaws, and impaled his next assailant in the soft of the belly. He stepped back, pulling his weapon free and letting the whimpering creature fall. He had no time to rest. The tassel around the base of his spearhead bobbed and wove with every strike, blurring the movement of the blade.
One of the monsters grazed him. He could feel the blood run along his upper arm, in the gap between his forearm and shoulder guards. It felt hot, painful beyond what it should be. There had probably been filth in that creature’s nails.
And these monsters had been tearing with them into his mentor.
He didn’t know how long he had been fighting, but they kept standing up. Nothing stopped them. Not slices across the throat, holes in the gut, nor broken bones. Jiang Wei panted, feeling his head swim. If these were men they would be dead by now, but if they took just a moment’s rest, they gathered to their feet, little more than winded.
Then one of them sat back and gibbered at him as though it expected he would understand.
Jiang Wei did not let it continue. His spear buried itself just beneath the creature’s collarbone.
One of the other beasts howled, and he wrenched his spear back to block it, only to feel the blade catch. The jade pendant...
He raised his left arm and felt the creature’s crushing jaws bite down on the leather forearm guard. Jiang Wei gritted his teeth and heaved the spear with his right arm, hard enough to break the cord. He swung it over his head and jammed the point down into the monster’s back.
The wolf-thing let go of Jiang Wei and he flung it away from him. He turned to the others, but their eyes were not on him, instead watching the one who had spoken, who now scrabbled at the dirt with its long nails to grab at the fallen pendant. Triumphant, it gathered its trinket in its hands.
Jiang Wei smashed it with his spear.
“I’ll do worse,” he said.
The creature bared its teeth but did not attack, and now the others gave him a wide berth, restlessly padding from side to side.
Shoulders heaving, Jiang Wei was not certain he could live up to his words, but the pendant had obviously meant something to the wolf-thing, and if fear of losing their own pendants would encourage the others to reconsider, he was more than willing to shatter the next one to come within reach.
His enemies seemed to reach the same conclusion. They bounded back into the fog, eyeing him as they fled. The speaker shook and curled its lips, then turned its head in disgust and loped into the void.