Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian eyed the hill towering over him with a mixture of suspicion and outright disbelief. “Here? Here is where we are to meet with the strategist?” Ouyang Zizhen wasn’t the sort to resort to pranks, and Jin Ling was nowhere to be seen, so Wei Wuxian accepted for the time being that the report he had just been given was serious. He began to pace as he clarified some pressing matters with his adjutant. “The unit hasn’t grown any since I counted last? There’re still fewer than two hundred of us?”
“Yes, Wei-tongling.”
“And we are still perilously close to the Bei Yan border – close to being within sight of it?”
“Yes, Wei-tongling.”
At Wei Wuxian’s side, Ouyang Zizhen was carefully avoiding his eyes, staring straight ahead at the hill looming before them. “So we are going to march up to the highest point of this hill and make camp in plain sight; no way to hide our presence or our numbers?” Wei Wuxian’s adjutant was still looking fixedly at the brow of the hill; he tugged at the neck of the padded jacket he wore under his armour, chafing under the material and the questioning alike.
“Zizhen? Ouyang Zizhen? Ouyang-fuguan, I am ordering you to answer my question.”
Stifling a sigh, Ouyang Zizhen turned to answer. “Yes, Wei-tongling, that is the situation and those are our orders.”
“I’m almost surprised we weren’t asked to set off the signal drum while we’re up there.” As Wei Wuxian contemplated their situation, Jin Ling had moved his horse to the foot of the hill to stand at his shoulder. It was hard to tell for sure, but Wei Wuxian thought that his lieutenant looked as frustrated and resentful as he felt. “What do you think, Jin-aijiang? Should we pretend that we did not receive these orders in the first place?”
”Much as it is tempting, I don't think it would be a good idea for us to ignore the orders. Unless you enjoy the prospect of staying in the Imperial prison, or you have become tired of the way your head attaches to your neck.”
“You are right, of course. I knew there must be a reason I kept you around.” Wei Wuxian straightened, reflexively tugging at his lamellar armour. “Come on then, let’s climb this thing.”
On the flat top of the hill, a breeze swirled, agitating the long grass into ever-changing patterns, rising and falling like a tide. To the south, the gradient of the hill was such that it appeared, at first glance, to be a sheer drop; beyond that, the grassland stretched out beyond the limits of sight. The western slope had a far gentler incline, but was scarred with knots of thicker grass and shrubs, and fell gradually to meet a wooded thicket. The foot of the eastern slope led to a vast, shallow basin. It had been difficult to surveil from ground level but, from above, it was clear the whole area was a quagmire. And to the north…
To the immediate north was the easiest of the hill's approaches, and beyond that, more grassland. Still further was the limits of Da Liang’s borders, the limits of where Wei Wuxian’s unit could patrol. Further than that, past where his eyes could penetrate, lay Bei Yan, the Bei Yan army, and everything else that Wei Wuxian wanted to avoid.
He stared northwards until motes swam before his eyes and the wind dried moisture on his cheeks. Empty – mercifully free from any approaching figures. Wei Wuxian turned once again to Ouyang Zizhen. “So, how long must we stay up here, exposed on all sides and announcing our presence to any passing scouts?”
“The strategist is due to arrive within the next two days; that was the time identified as being the most auspicious by the palace astrologers, just as this,” Zizhen gestured to the hill around him, ”was identified as the most auspicious place.”
With an effort, Wei Wuxian smoothed his face to neutrality. “Very well, let’s make the best of it. Go, do what you do best, Ouyang-fuguan – organise the camp. Bring the men and supplies up the north slope and concentrate lookouts and temporary defences there. I’m off to see if there’s any liquor in the provisions.”
Wei Wuxian swiped a jar of liquor from under the eye of the provisioner with an ease borne of extensive practice and retreated to his quarters within the command tent, letting the heavy canvas sweep down behind him to shut out the unease that had dogged him up the hill. Before he could break the seal and raise the liquor to his lips, a shrill whistle pierced the half-completed camp. Wei Wuxian closed his eyes and took a couple of steadying breaths. He laid the jar down carefully and rose, leaving the tent and heading towards the source of the alarm. As he walked, he tried to reason with his heartbeat, bargain it back down his throat and into a more appropriate rhythm. Perhaps it was nothing; a bear or a wolf wandered too close to camp. Maybe the accursed strategist who had brought Wei Wuxian and all of his men here had arrived early to be escorted to Jinling and the Emperor. As long as it wasn’t —
“Enemy soldiers, Wei-tongling.”
Well, shit.
“Report.”
“Bei Yan scouts, Wei-tongling. About eight li to the north.” The young soldier paused and swallowed nervously. “They’ve seen us; they altered their route and turned back to the north.”
“Of course they saw us. We are sat on the top of the only elevated spot in the vicinity, plainly visible from tens of li in every direction. They are returning to the rest of their unit to tell them with great delight that there’s a small and extremely vulnerable company of the Changlin army camped atop a hill, begging to be attacked.” Wei Wuxian gave up trying to blunt the bitter edge of his voice. “Not very…auspicious.”
Men bustled and barked orders around him; tents were wrestled aloft, snapping and fretting against their ropes; baggage and weapons and horses ebbed and flowed amidst the barely contained panic of the camp. Wei Wuxian stood motionless in the centre of the disorder, calculating his next moves with a calmness that was equal parts charade and weary resignation.
Wei Wuxian looked to the heavens. “When will they attack? Tonight? Tomorrow?” The heavens remained disappointingly silent. “Very well, nothing to do now but get on with it.” To his right, Ouyang Zizhen was awaiting his orders. “You know what to do, Ouyang-fuguan? You remember our plan for this sort of cursed scenario?”
At his side, Wei Wuxian’s adjutant nodded, only the tightness around his eyes betraying his knowledge of how precarious their situation was. “Yes, the chariots. I will go and speak to Xiao-yurong and Yan-yurong immediately.” He moved away, but stopped after a few steps as Wei Wuxian called after him.
“Zizhen, does this hill have a name?”
“No, Wei-tongling; or, at least, not one that I am aware of.”
“That doesn’t seem right. The sight of a heroic last stand deserves to have a name – something that will sound good in the history books.” Wei Wuxian looked around, his eyes moving from man to horse to tent, as if cataloguing everything before it was lost. “I’m going to call it Luanzang Hill. What do you think?”
Ouyang Zizhen shivered. “Don’t you think that’s a little…morbid?”
“Morbid? Not at all.” Wei Wuxian tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, knuckles pushing whitely through the skin. “I think it’s very fitting. Unless this new strategist the Emperor has sent for can work some kind of miracle, we are all going to die here.”