ETERNAL
Alasdair Grant
Copyright 2014 Alasdair Grant
All Rights Reserved
Cover Art: Copyright 2015 Alasdair Grant
The characters and events in this novel are fictional. Any similarities to real people or events are purely coincidental.
Visit the author at:
cwtoolbox.blogspot.com
Also by Alasdair Grant
The Isis Stone (Lost Goddess #1)
The Dominion Scepter (Lost Goddess #2)
The Lost Goddess (Omnibus)
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-THREE
FIFTY-FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
FIFTY-SIX
FIFTY-SEVEN
FIFTY-EIGHT
FIFTY-NINE
SIXTY
SIXTY-ONE
SIXTY-TWO
Acknowledgements
About the Author
ONE
一
JADE
We kneel in eight straight rows, boys at the front and girls in their usual inferior position at the back. Portraits of the Eternal Emperor frown down on us, and Master Yao paces the open space dividing genders. He watches for any break in our concentration.
I’m supposed to be focusing on the Five Amplitudes of Thought, today’s test topic, but I allow a bird’s song to distract me. It chirps in the lilac bushes outside the pagoda—three clear, high whistles followed by two lower ones. A huang-chibang. A yellow-wing. It sounds happy and free.
“Begin!”
The command catches me off guard. I reach for my rabbit-hair writing brush and hurriedly dip its soft bristles into my inkstone. In my haste, I spatter a black constellation across the testing scroll. I try, with my palm heel, to blot the mess away, but this only makes things worse. Master Yao coughs again, and I bend over the scroll, trying to look as if I’m deep in concentration.
First Amplitude. Mu. Symbol: Wood. Generated through deep emotion, these brain waves can be used to manipulate others’ thoughts, decisions, and passions…
I don’t know why I have to memorize this. I’m not a boy. I’ll never receive training in higher levels of Focused Thought. Such practical knowledge is forbidden to girls. Master Yao claims it’s because females are frivolous and treacherous by nature.
Frivolous and treacherous? It seems contradictory, but it’s not a student’s place—especially a girl’s—to question his logic.
Master Yao notices my brush has stopped moving and he paces my direction. I re-ink and make a few quick strokes to start my next paragraph.
Second Amplitude. Huo. Symbol: Fire. These waves are produced when one “daydreams,” but a gifted thinker can harness these creative thoughts to confuse his enemies with mind-generated hallucinations.
I glance at the sand timer. It’s almost empty. I’ll have to rush through the last three Amplitudes to have any hope of finishing on time.
Third Amplitude. Tu…
My calligraphy has become sloppy, and I’ll likely lose points for it. Not much I can do about that now.
Symbol: Earth. These waves are produced during a state of relaxed awareness. If you know how to manipulate them, you can bend light to make yourself invisible.
Fourth Amplitude. Jinshu. Symbol: Metal. These deeply focused signals are produced during cognitive processing. A Fifth Level student can use them to perform basic acts of telekinesis.
I wish I could move objects with my mind. I’d make one of the hanging paper lamps fall on Master Yao’s head. But I don’t have time for childish fantasies. Last and, according to Master Yao, least—
“Brushes down!”
Master Yao is glaring at me. No chance of sneaking in any extra words while he’s watching.
“Signets!”
I slip the ring off my little finger and press it against an inked pad in a soapstone box. I stamp the unfinished test in red. Yu. Five strokes. The Chinese character for “Jade,” my given name.
Master Yao gives the command to clean our writing implements, and I feel his disapproving gaze even though I don’t look up. He has always hated me, and I don’t know why. I do little to draw attention, but I constantly get his unwelcome notice. After cleaning and drying my supplies, I return to my place and set them in a neat row beside my “Four Treasures of the Study.” Scroll, brush, ink stick, and inkstone. All ready for Master Yao’s unfriendly inspection. He paces the room, stopping a few extra moments at my spot to examine my supplies. Finally he barks out, “Male students dismissed!”
The boys scoop up their writing utensils and file eagerly out the pagoda door. As required, we girls keep our eyes modestly lowered until the last boy has exited.
“Females dismissed!”
I gather my things into a loose fold of my robe. My knees ache after two hours on a hardwood floor, and the soles of my feet prickle like used pincushions. I notice I’m not the only one who walks gingerly as we shuffle carefully toward freedom. But my liberty is arrested before I reach the door.
“Student Jade.”
I freeze in midstride.
“You will remain behind.”
No one dares look directly at me, but I feel my fellow students’ attention as clearly as if I were tapping into their Mu waves.
Master Yao waits for the Pagoda of Amplitudes to become silent and empty before walking back to my scroll and standing over it. He reads what I’ve written and shakes his head.
“You were out of focus today. You didn’t give an explanation for the Fifth Amplitude.”
I say nothing. If he expected a response, he would ask for one. I don’t particularly feel like talking anyway.
“If you were male,” he continues, “this would trouble me, but you’re a foolish girl. Substandard work is to be expected from you. At least no one needs to worry about you being placed in an important government position.”
My gaze doesn’t leave my feet, but his words trigger a silent response that warms my face. I’m not embarrassed. I burn with anger.
I understand the Five Amplitudes as well as any boy—perhaps better—and I could manipulate my brain waves if given proper training. I wonder how smug he would look if I could focus my First Amplitude and force him to grovel before me.
“As much as this may surprise you,” he says, clasping his hands loosely behind his back, “I haven’t detained you to discuss your woefully inadequate performance. The High Master wishes to meet with you. You are to report immediately to the Pagoda of
Reason.”
I almost forget the rules of formality and lift my gaze to look into his sharp weasel eyes. Fortunately, I catch myself at the last second.
“I suggest haste,” Master Yao says. “The High Master’s time is precious.”
“Yes,” I mumble. “I mean… Of course, Master Yao.”
I bow clumsily, cursing my inability to look poised and dignified as I stumble to the exit. My heart hammers. My pulse races. I move with mechanical steps. Lily, as I was expecting, waits for me just outside the door.
“Jade! What’s happened?” she asks in a whisper. “You’re as pale as moon silk!”
“I… Master Yao… He told me to report to the High Master,” I say.
Lily’s blue eyes widen a little, and she grasps my arm.
“The High Master? Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Master Yao didn’t tell, and I didn’t ask. Perhaps he doesn’t even know the reason. He sounded mystified and annoyed when he delivered the message.
I wobble, and Lily tightens her grasp.
“Do you need me to walk with you?” she asks.
“Yes. I think that…would be a good idea. Thank you.”
She pushes a strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear, readjusts her grip on my arm, and helps me toward the central pagoda. It’s the largest at our isolated academy. Three-tiered, resplendent with red pillars, and capped by a magnificent horned roof.
Our progress is monitored by others. From the dormitory courtyard, Opal and her cronies, Willow and Sage, stare maliciously. Like Master Yao, Opal hates me. She enjoys whispering the word wuran—tainted—whenever she knows I’m listening. My father was half-European, not a pure descendant of the Yellow Emperor like her family. She only knows this because we’re from the same village where her father serves as a minor Imperial shizhang. Strangely, she never seemed to care about my mixed heritage until I “tainted” her selection for the academy by being selected with her.
I quickly forget about Opal, however, once I realize someone else is watching. Flint. He sits beneath a tree, hands cupped, head slightly bowed as if roused from meditation. He smiles at me, and warmth creeps up my neck.
His attention is welcome, but there’s no time to enjoy it. We’ve already passed between the two stone dragons that guard the High Master’s pearl-white door, and I need to compose myself quickly. My thoughts are racing almost as fast as my pulse. What business does High Master Ning have with me? I’m nobody. Not worthy of his notice.
“We’re here,” Lily whispers.
I nod and stare at the door. A small gong rests beside it on a marble stand. Lily releases my arm to reach for a mallet dangling beside the gong, and this is all I need for an invisible whirlpool to pull the last of my strength away.
My head spins, my knees buckle.
“Jade!” Lily cries.
The last thing I glimpse before losing consciousness is a silver wind chime twirling slowly under the pagoda’s eaves.
TWO
二
JENNA
My eyes snap open. My heart pounds so hard it shakes my ribcage. It takes a moment for my brain to reorient enough to figure out I’ve dozed off in the middle of a World History test.
Great!
I blink and scan the room to see if anyone noticed my surreptitious nap. Mr. Carlson sits at his desk, yawning as he thumbs through a copy of National Geographic. Everyone else is too busy with their own tests to look my way. At least I can be grateful for that.
A quick glance at the clock makes my fingers tighten around the desk’s edge. Ten minutes! I have ten minutes to finish two pages of essay questions! Why can’t Mr. Carlson give multiple choice tests like every other teacher in this school?
I try to remember which prompt I was on before my vision blurred and exhaustion knocked me out: Name the first emperor of a unified China and explain at least three important events that helped establish his reign.
This explains the weird dream I was having—me kneeling on a hardwood floor writing short essays on a rice paper scroll. Except I was writing in Chinese. I think I might have even been speaking a little.
So strange. I probably shouldn’t stay up until two in the morning reading textbook chapters about Imperial China.
I peek at the clock again. How much of my grade does this test count for anyway? Twenty-five percent? Mom’s gonna kill me! I can only hope Mr. Carlson doesn’t post grades before the weekend.
That’s the problem with having a college professor for a mother. Grades mean everything. She’s always checking them online, freaking out if she sees a minus after an A. She nearly went ballistic when I got that B+ last term. Luckily, she’s lectured me a lot about test-taking strategies, and I can use some of that knowledge now.
I tap the eraser end of my pencil against the desktop. Mr. Carlson looks up, and I immediately stop.
Who was the first emperor of a unified China? I’m pretty sure it was Qin Shi Huang. Three important events? That’s harder. Did we talk about this in class? It was in the textbook. Unfortunately, I was only half awake when I was reading last night. The last thing I remember is a picture of three ships and a caption about some guy called Xu Fu.
Fu. Wu.Yu. Why do so many Chinese names sound the same?
Yu. That was my Chinese name in the dream. Jade. Like the green ring I was wearing.
On a corner of my test packet, I sketch the figure Jade stamped on her scroll. It’s burned into my brain even though the rest of the dream is fading.
Eight minutes. I’ve already wasted two minutes and still haven’t written a thing. I’m as unfocused in the real world as I was in the dream.
I go to the next prompt and dash off a paragraph. I manage two more prompts then return to Qin Shi Huang. The bell is about to ring, and my classmates are already dropping their finished tests in the wire basket at the edge of Mr. Carlson’s desk. I’m still attempting to cobble together a few lame sentences when the bell fills the room with a sharp jangle that sends a mad stampede out the door.
It’s hopeless. Even if I hadn’t fallen asleep in class, I’d never be able to finish this test. What’s the point of history, anyway? It’s just a bunch of irrelevant stories about dead people and their crumbled civilizations.
Blowing a strand of loose hair out of my eyes, I get to my feet and carry my test to the front of the room. I’m about to drop it in the basket when I see the strange character I wrote in its corner: 玉. It really does look Chinese.
“Is something the matter?”
I snap out of my daze to see Mr. Carlson staring at me with a concerned look on his face.
“Huh? No…”
I force a smile, pinch off the test’s corner, and hope he doesn’t notice my unusual action. As casually as possible, I drop the test on top of the others and quickly exit the room.
It was just a dream. My dreaming mind made the Chinese character up. I try to convince myself of this as I work the combination on my dented red locker. But something bothers me about the character, so I take out my smartphone and connect to the internet.
English to Chinese. J-a-d-e.
I hold the bit of paper next to the fingerprint-smudged touch screen, and an electric chill goes up my spine.
The character on the screen and the one on the paper match exactly. Creepy. But there must be a logical explanation. I must have seen it someplace before.
“I hear you fell asleep during your World History test.”
I jump at the unexpected sound.
“Blake Brunson told me you drooled all over your paper.”
“Blake Brunson’s an idiot. I wasn’t asleep. I was just…resting my eyes. And I definitely didn’t drool. I never drool.”
“Blake has the hots for you. Even when you’re drooling.”
Lily bats her eyes, and I roll mine.
“I’d rather kiss a pig.”
“Whatever you say, Captain Drool. You wanna go with me to the mall for a few hours?”
I grimace. �
��I’d love to, but you know how my mom is.”
“Homework first?”
I nod. “I’ll get it done fast and call you when I’m finished.”
“You’re going to end up at a university for the rest of your existence,” Lily says. “Just like your mom. I can see it now. Dr. Jenna Clark, professor of homework-ology.”
“Tell it to Dr. Emily Clark, professor of behavioral science. Maybe she’ll listen to you, because she never listens to me.”
“You have to tie it in to your education,” Lily says. “Tell her today’s employers look for individuals with good social skills. Hanging out at the mall helps you develop that.”
We look at each other a moment then bust up laughing. Several students pause to glance at us like we’re freaks.
“Come on,” I say. “We’d better hurry or we’ll miss the bus. My mom wasn’t very happy the last time that happened.”
I grab tomorrow’s homework—French and chemistry—and slam the locker shut. Side by side, we join the surge of noisy kids moving toward the exit.
“I had a really bizarre dream in World History,” I say.
“I thought you were just ‘resting’ your eyes.”
“Okay. Maybe I slept a few minutes. Do you want to hear the dream or not?”
“All right. What did you dream about? I hope it was Mitch Nielsen, because he’s soooo hot!”
“I said it was bizarre, not enjoyable. I didn’t even recognize any of the people in the dream except for you and me.”
“Cool! I was in it? What were we doing?”
“Kneeling on a really hard floor,” I say, “taking some kind of ‘brain waves’ test in a room that looked like a karate studio. Most of the kids in our class looked Chinese. But we weren’t in China. At least, I don’t think we were.”
“You’re right,” Lily says. “That’s completely bizarre. Next time dream about Mitch.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes again. We walk past a mirror with a red and white sign above it that says, “Our School Is a Reflection of You.” I pause to check my appearance.
Whenever I look in a mirror, I don’t see the one-quarter Caucasian blood flowing through my veins. I only see Chinese, and that’s what everyone else sees. And yet the Chinese side of my heritage is the part I know least about. I wish Mom didn’t avoid talking about it the way she stubbornly avoids discussions about my father.
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