Prologue: Hundreds

The time was that moment after midnight on the night of a new moon, when the shock of a new day is over and one realizes there is no one else about and still awake, and one's only companions are the tiny stars.

In this case, there were many still awake, who had been awake for many long, sweaty hours. Only, there was a difference. These were invisible.

No one was listening, so no one heard the muffled clops of hundreds of horses, that were covered by the tall grass flowing like dark green rivers because of the strong southeastern breeze. No one was sniffing, so no one smelled the scent of strange, northern horsehair, or even the scent of hundreds of sweaty horses and hundreds more of sweaty humans. 
Certainly no one was looking, so no one saw the strange, ever changing shadows on the grass, that flitted and seemed to look for a place to hide.

In fact, the shadows were looking for hiders.

Suddenly, the sounds stopped. All motion halted, except for the swirling of the tall grasses. Something that looked like the outline of a horse with large, angular brown eyes allowed its enormous shadow rider to hop off. 

The shadow had two eyes that gleamed, but were somehow dimmed by what the stars determined as a furry hood. This shadow's eyes, the part that gleamed, swung left and right--then the entire head jerked to the left. The shadowy figure leapt back onto the horse and urged his--or was it her?--crowd of friends forward...

They were stopped again. The same shadow hopped off of the horse and reached down to pick something up, something small that fit in the one's palm. The shadow sniffed it deeply and tossed it to the others behind him. One of them caught it.

"Gunpowder?" the first shadow's deep, insinuating man's voice asked.

The second shadow smelled the item. "Gunpowder," he confirmed with a rasp. He tossed it to a thinner shadow behind him, who smelled it and squealed, "Scented wood and dust from stones. It belonged to a guard watching the Wall."

The item flew through the air--the moment before the first man enclosed his fist around it, the high-up stars conferred among them and gleamed a faint, silvery light onto the object: it was a badge that had dropped from someone's sleeve, with the swirling insignia of a dragon emblazoned on the cloth--the sign of the Imperial Guard.

The first man wrapped his thick, meaty fingers around the badge. "We are close, my friends. We are close indeed."

The ring of men behind him chuckled--the leader held up a black-gloved hand. "Stop!"

Crickets cheeped. Grass rustled.

The same thin shadow that had confirmed the object's owner leapt off of his horse and scuttled into the grass.

A moment later, the figure returned holding the collar of an unconscious man. "A scout patrolling the rim of the Wall," the figure's high voice smirked as he tossed the man onto the ground.

The leader strolled forward and finally lifted his hood.

Tall, like a giant. The stars were able to illuminate his face only, which was a hard gray in the night haze and set firmly, like stone. His hard mouth was chiseled into his face as a crude slit, and his cold eyes were different colors--one black, one milky white; a blind eye that for all the world had always felt to his soldiers like he was watching their every move.

He came forward and took the sentry, holding him up like a puppy. "Why hello, little one."

On cue, the guard came to life and spluttered. "Wha--where--who--ah!"

The guard tried to jerk back from the face looming inches away from him. "You." 

The man bared his teeth in a grin. "My reputation precedes me, does it?"

The guard tried to lean away. When that failed, he pointed a quivering finger at the blind eye and whispered, "Xiayan."

Xiayan smiled and knotted the sentry's collar before setting him back down. "That is the name I go by down south, yes."

The sentry scurried backwards as a crab might.

Xiayan dusted off his hands and made a condescending, dramatic bow. "Welcome to the Hun Army, son."

Ripples of laughter.

The soldier's eyes widened in fear. "You'll never get past the Great Wall."

Xiayan snorted. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. That wall you and your famous emperor built is no stronger than my army. Have no fear--we can scale that wall in an instant, and then all your precious cities and treasure will be ours." He stroked his chin, then whipped out a small, gleaming knife and held it to the terrified sentry's throat. "Go, little soldier. Ring the gongs. Sound the alarms. Do whatever you tiny Chinese do. Assemble your best army." His rippling laugh echoed into the cloak of night. "Go, little one. Go whip your beloved country into a frenzy."

The sentry slowly stumbled backwards. 

Zing. An arrow made of darkness impaled itself in the grass by the soldier's left foot. He gasped slightly and hopped backward, his gaze whipping up to train itself on Xiayan.

That liquid laugh echoed again. "I may be half blind," Xiayan confided as he unstrung his bow and handed it to the man behind him, "but I can hunt down a hare fifty feet away. Make haste, you idiot, before I make haste for you."

The sentry whimpered and ran out into the night. Xiayan watched him thoughtfully, then looked in the direction he was scurrying to.

Despite himself, his eyes widened and he slowly gave a laugh of amazement.

There it was, looming above them in all its glory, but in Xiayan's one seeing eye, it was a crumbling ruin, full of weaknesses and soft spots. He jerked his chin at it, grinning; the others, following his gaze, began to laugh along.

"We're more than close, gentlemen," Xiayan said softly, remounting his horse. "We're there."

Author's Note

Just for clarification: That comment that Xiayan makes--"do whatever you tiny Chinese do"--was not in any way intended to be racist or anything like that. It was purely how I thought a person like him would talk. No offense intended at all.