by Ryan Kirk
“Do you have regrets?” she asked.
He looked back at his life, contemplating her question earnestly. “Yes. I know my decisions have led me here, to you, but if I could go back, I wouldn’t do the same.”
She nodded. When they’d been younger, such a comment might have angered her. But honesty meant everything now. When Lei had been a boy, he lost control of his power and killed a young girl from Two Bridges. He could trace a path of cause and effect from that to him sitting in a garden with the love of his life, but that didn’t mean he would sacrifice the girl’s life again.
“I feel selfish,” Daiyu admitted.
Lei gave her a quizzical look.
“If not for me, would you have retreated from the empire?”
Lei had thought about that question on and off over the years, but had never come to a satisfactory answer. He’d never considered himself a hero. While he’d been blessed with great strength, all he’d ever wanted was his own happiness. He didn’t have any desire to sacrifice his life for some greater good, or seek trouble that wasn’t his own.
He clasped Daiyu’s hands between his own. “I made my choice, the same as you.”
“But you might have made a different choice, and now the empire might not be in this state.”
“There’s no way of knowing. You could also argue that if I’d remained in the empire, anger at the monasteries would have increased. You’ll recall I wasn’t a very popular man after Jihan. Perhaps this all would have come to pass years ago.”
She smiled at him again. “I know, but I feel selfish.”
“You’ve done more for this village over the years than anyone else. Perhaps it hasn’t changed the course of the empire, but think of the people who can live here without fear thanks to you.”
The statement was no exaggeration. Daiyu, though not nearly the oldest in the small village, had acted as its elder from day one. They accepted those who sought shelter from the empire, or those seeking a quieter life. Hien had brought no small number of women here over the years. The village was a haven, but Daiyu rarely gave herself enough credit.
She twisted the conversation. “What would you do if Yang came after I die? Would you have the same hesitations?”
Lei opened his mouth to deny the inherent accusation, but a look from Daiyu silenced him. He took a deep breath and imagined what he would do. He sighed. “I would probably go.”
She nodded, no doubt expecting that answer. “Then I am holding you back.”
“These are still my choices.”
Daiyu stood up, and Lei followed suit. They held hands as they walked around the garden, Daiyu lost in thought. When she spoke, her question surprised him. “Do you remember the Heron?”
“The inn where we met in Jihan?”
“Yes. Did you know that it is still open?”
He shook his head. He did not understand how Daiyu knew that, but then again, she always knew far more than he suspected.
“I would like to visit it again. It has been far too long, and it is one of my favorite places in the world.”
Lei stepped in front of her. He knew what she was doing and was frightened by what she implied. His worst fears wrapped their shadowy fingers around his heart. “It’s a long journey, there and back.”
Her smile was sad. “I do not think I will be coming back, my love.”
Lei’s heart broke, his fears confirmed.
“You can’t give up,” he mumbled. He looked at the ground, unable to meet her eyes.
She lifted his chin with one hand, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were bright, even though they glistened. “I’m not giving up. But I feel weaker every day. I don’t have much longer left, and I love the Heron. It is where we began our life together. I’d be overjoyed to be there, at the end.”
Lei wiped a hand across his eyes. “And then I’ll be in the center of the chaos.”
Her hand wrapped around the back of his head and pulled his face gently towards her. Their lips met, and after all these years, his heart still beat faster when they kissed.
She gently released him. “I think it’s where you belong.”
16
Bai swore the shadows sought her out. In her travels and adventures she had developed a fair degree of caution. One didn’t interfere with both monks and triads without learning to look frequently over one’s shoulder. She had always prided herself on avoiding paranoia, though.
In Jihan, she wasn’t sure which side of madness she fell on.
While the sun burned its way through the sky, she had no problems. But at night, when only the moon and the stars illuminated her paths, ethereal creatures haunted her. She had arrived in Jihan two days ago. She had yet to seek Yang’s students, preferring to explore the city on her own first. Tomorrow she would go to them. Tonight, she sought answers.
Every night she felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck, certain she was being watched. Even when she wandered the roofs, she saw shadows that didn’t belong. Whenever she approached, though, she found nothing of interest. Nor did she sense another gifted.
She didn’t believe she was mad, but after two nights of chasing shadows, she began to wonder.
Tonight’s full moon would reveal her answers. Someone followed her. By the time the sun rose, she planned on knowing who.
Bai leaped over an alley separating two roofs, her footsteps light on the tiles. Her eyes wandered restlessly over the surrounding buildings, looking for misshapen darkness and unnatural shadows. She paid attention to the streets below, judging the mood of the city.
Bai imagined Jihan as a thread pulled taut. The city watch patrolled the streets more than anywhere Bai had ever been. Some merchants refused to open their stalls and shops for business.
The thread was in danger of snapping. During the day, people bustled to their destinations, hurrying from shelter to shelter. At night no one left their homes. Even now, the street below her sat perfectly empty.
When she first realized how empty the nighttime streets were, Bai worried a monk might detect her nocturnal wanderings. She had some advantages, though.
Jihan was an enormous city, and most monks struggled to sense the gift in others when surrounded by other people. Bai didn’t understand why, but the more crowded a space was, the more difficult a monk’s power was to sense. She had made great use of that fact in several cities. Her presence was naturally light, and within the walls of the empire’s most populous cities, she practically had to be on top of a monk before they sensed her.
With the streets empty, it was another story entirely.
She had yet to see a monk in the streets, though. Jihan’s monastery had been attacked like the one in Windown. Bai had seen the damage to the walls with her own eyes. The monks huddled inside their shattered sanctuary, licking their wounds.
Who knew what they planned?
She leaped to another rooftop, finding a deep recess to hide within. The odds of anyone spotting her standing in the open were slim, but why take a chance? She closed her eyes and focused her senses, focusing on her breath the way Lei had taught her.
Nothing.
After a few minutes, she opened her eyes. As soon as she did, she thought she saw a shadow move, three buildings over.
This was her chance.
Desperate for answers, Bai broke from cover, leaping across roofs, arriving at the spot only seconds after she had seen the movement.
She saw nothing that explained what she was sure she had seen. Bai squatted and examined the area. This rooftop didn’t connect to any others. If someone had been watching her, they either jumped down three stories or leaped across a fairly wide street.
She had seen something.
She clenched her fist. Either she really was going mad, or she was missing something.
Bai calmed her breathing. She relied too heavily on her sight.
Eyes closed and breath steady, she noticed a sense of someone else. It didn’t feel like a monk. The feeling was much softer, like the
difference between a single candle near the bottom of its wick and a raging bonfire.
They were close.
She opened her eyes, focused on where she thought the presence might be. At first, she saw nothing. She waited. Eventually, a shadow moved on the rooftop across the street.
Bai’s worldview shifted, as though she had been looking at her problems upside-down.
The answer was simple, but so unlikely it hadn’t occurred to her.
Bai remained still. There was no reason to move until she’d planned her actions.
Catching her shadow required fast moves and sharp senses. Her tail was talented.
Bai grinned. She hadn’t faced a challenge like this in some time.
She took one final deep breath, then burst from the roof, pulling energy as she did.
Bai couldn’t track the shadow with her eyes. As soon as ran, the shadow melted away. When she reached the other roof, the shadow was gone, leaving no evidence of its passing. But Bai kept her other senses open and questing and felt a subtle energy coming from below. It was no wonder she had missed it before. Her shadow moved like her.
Bai dropped off the rooftops, chasing her mysterious target.
If she’d had any doubt that her own power was being sensed, it didn’t last long. Her shadow sprinted, almost as quick as her.
Bai followed like a bloodhound after catching a scent. She kept her focus on her sense. Whoever she chased was adept at hiding, moving from shadow to darkness, loose robes indistinct in the middle of the night. At first, Bai wasn’t sure she could catch up. Her target was fast and agile, changing directions without warning.
After taking a tight corner too quickly and slamming her shoulder into a wall, Bai bounded up onto the rooftops, her speed increasing as fewer obstacles hampered her. Her target realized what had happened and jumped up, too.
It was like chasing a mirror image of herself.
Her target’s change in elevation came too late. Bai had already closed most of the distance between them. She gained on her target, her pursuit relentless. Bai’s leaps between rooftops were a little smoother, a little farther. So long as Bai remained close enough to sense the shadow, they had no place to hide. She vowed to run her prey to the ground.
They came to a large gap, a leap across one of the main thoroughfares of this neighborhood. Bai felt the way her target shifted their power as they leaped. By the time Bai understood what was happening, she was already in midair behind the shadow.
As soon as her target landed they stopped, grounding their weight and swinging a back fist at her. Bai saw the blow coming but could do little about it. Her leap took her directly into the strike. Bai got an arm up, the block hasty and poorly performed. The strength of the blow, combined with Bai’s own momentum, sent her spinning, the back of her head rushing straight to the roof.
Bai twisted, taking the impact on her shoulder rather than her head. Agony flared in the shoulder, but Bai pushed the pain down. Her assailant didn’t give her a moment to recover, aiming a powerful kick at her head. Bai raised her arms to block, funneling energy into them, and the kick caught her across the forearms. Her injured shoulder flared in pain. The blow caused her body to crater the rooftop.
Bai kicked up at her assailant, catching her enemy by surprise. The kick knocked the hooded figure back several feet.
Bai scrambled to her feet, pulling desperately for more energy. The assailant attacked again, unleashing a series of blows almost too fast to track. Bai’s eyes widened as she fought to keep up. Even with all her strength, her defense barely held.
Her heart raced as she completed blocks closer and closer to her body. Then she missed a block, and the punch sent her off the roof.
Transferring energy to her legs, Bai landed on her feet, then immediately jumped back into the fight. She caught her opponent off-guard, already turning around to flee.
Bai unleashed her own attacks, a series of punches and elbows that would have killed any monk. Her challenger gave up ground but blocked or avoided every strike.
The two of them split apart, each preparing for the next exchange. Bai pulled more power in, studying her opponent. They had a slight build and were covered from head to toe in dark black robes, revealing only their eyes.
Bai had never fought anyone like herself. She’d never even considered it. The techniques she relied on against monks, or against warriors that weren’t gifted, were of little use here. What remained?
No clever answers came. Her only thought was to be faster and stronger. She took a deep breath, centered herself, and approached her opponent.
Their first exchange had been fast, the uncontrolled power of two warriors crashing into one another for the first time. Their second was more orderly, each relying on their techniques to surpass the other.
Bai led with a series of jabs, then blocked a snap kick aimed at her leg. She pushed closer, switching to her elbows. The strategy disoriented the other warrior. Bai landed two glancing shots, then used the momentary confusion to grab her opponent’s robes and throw them off the roof. She followed.
They fell together, Bai above the masked enemy. Bai focused her energy into her legs and feet. She sensed the other person shift their energy to their back and torso, protecting them from most of the impact. They crashed into the ground together.
Her enemy didn’t get up. Bai didn’t recover quickly, either. Drawing power gave her strength, but a body still had limits.
The shadow tore off the fabric around their head, revealing a young woman’s face underneath. Her nose trickled blood from one of Bai’s elbows, but her lips were turned up in a smile. “That was excellent!”
Confusion flooded through Bai. She stood, tensed, ready to fight. The other woman stood up and brushed herself off, as casually as though she’d just tripped.
Bai stepped forward, but the woman held up a hand. “There’s no need to fight. I only wanted to test you. You know I’ve been watching you for a few days?”
Bai nodded.
“My name is Rong. Would you like to meet the others?”
Bai didn’t understand. What others?
Then it clicked. Rong’s gifts. Her welcoming demeanor. Others. Bai didn’t need to find Yang’s students.
They had found her. And if Rong was any indication, they were strong.
She followed the mysterious warrior deeper into the shadows.
The journey took longer than Bai expected. The two women rested for a few minutes by walking the streets, but then took to the roofs. Rong led her all the way through the city. Bai didn’t mind. For the first time in her life, she shared her gift with another.
Hien was as close as a sister, but the differences in their abilities created a wall between them that couldn’t be broken. How could Hien know what it felt like to arc between buildings, the wind snapping through your hair?
Rong knew.
She understood the freedom that Bai couldn’t put into words, the lightheartedness that came from traveling paths most people weren’t aware of. In all of Jihan, only the two of them were truly free.
Rong led and Bai sensed the competitive spirit within. The woman moved fast, bounding across buildings with obvious confidence. Bai, not to be outdone, remained no more than a pace or two behind.
They came to the wall that surrounded Jihan, but Rong didn’t slow. Bai sensed the incredible power the woman funneled into her legs, her leap taking her up and over the wall.
Bai had never attempted such a large leap. But she wouldn’t capitulate. She pulled and channeled the necessary energy, jumping just as Rong had. She cleared the wall with ease, passing two oblivious sentries. Their backs were to her as they walked the wall. They didn’t even hear her passing.
Bai used most of her remaining energy to land on the other side of the wall. She saw Rong ahead of her, running further away from Jihan. Bai followed.
Eventually, Rong came to halt on the outskirts of a copse. The other woman wasn’t even out of breath. Their eyes met, and Rong
smiled.
“I’ve never been followed so well.”
Bai understood the implication. “There are others?”
“A few.”
“I didn’t know there was anyone else like me.”
“More are discovered every year.”
Bai had a thousand questions, but none of them escaped her lips. She didn’t know where to begin.
A part of her had always hoped to meet others. The empire was vast, and it seemed unusual that she would be the only person with a certain ability. But that hope had waned as year after year passed without meeting a kindred soul.
She wasn’t alone. That thought silenced all others.
Rong stepped into the copse. “Don’t be nervous. No one here will hurt you.”
Bai was about to ask why when she realized Rong’s meaning. Monks were in this copse. In the excitement of following Rong, she’d let down her guard.
They soon came upon a small camp. Bai sensed those sitting around the fire were gifted, but any similarities to monks ended there. The group was small, but consisted of both women and men dressed in heavy traveling clothes. They possessed an ease never found in monasteries.
The first morning rays broke over the horizon, but it appeared everyone had been awake for some time. Cook fires crackled while the group prepared to break their fast. Everyone moved with a quiet competence born of experience. They were young, Bai saw.
When the others noticed Bai, the attention of the entire camp focused on her. Bai gave a small bow in greeting.
A woman, older than the rest, spoke. “Welcome.”
Rong replied, “This is Bai.”
Her name seemed to be introduction enough. The older woman gave Bai a deep bow. “I’m glad Rong brought you. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time, but you aren’t an easy woman to find.”
Bai looked around the group. “You’re from Kulat?”
“We are. My name is Shu. Master Yang asked me to lead this expedition.”
