by T. A. Miles
Alere’s gaze sought the frigid waters surrounding the currently slow-moving ship. A steady wind that would undoubtedly become a hazardous gale before the day was over curled the surface of the sea, creating fringes of white upon the metallic blue of an overcast morning. Amid the rolling ivory caps, he spied the cresting heads of water-faring beasts. None of them were especially large, but several of them boasted what appeared to be horns, a single one to each mottled gray head. Alere had never seen their like, and found himself observing the unit of sleek swimmers intently.
“They’re the unicorns of the sea,” someone said. “Though easier to catch a glimpse of than the land-dwelling variety.”
Alere shifted his focus only long enough to take in a glimpse of Fu Ran while the large man took up a relaxed pose against the crates. “I’ve never looked upon a unicorn outside of artistic portrayal,” he informed the giant.
“Nor have I,” came the input of the one among their group with romantic leanings enough to believe that the beast of legend even inhabited the mortal world anymore. The unicorn had been more hearsay than witnessed since before the last known days of the dragon civilization of Yvaria. It was a god creature, like the phoenix, and perhaps like the angel Tristus believed he had witnessed amid the snowy peaks of the Alabaster Range.
In response to the knight’s comment, Alere said, “Perhaps it’s for the better.”
“Better,” Tarfan agreed while he ambled into view, “for the sake of the unicorn, considering the lad’s history with creatures of an equine persuasion.”
“I wish you would let go those incidents, Tarfan,” Tristus said, unamused. “I don’t relish them; I regret them.”
“So do I, boy!” Tarfan blustered.
Alere noticed that even the dwarf’s blustering was scarcely heard over the sudden rise of the winds.
“I think we should go back inside!” Taya shouted, raising her arms to shield herself.
The others came to a mutual decision that involved all but Fu Ran to head below deck. The giant instead moved off to lend a hand to his fellow shipmates while they took measures against the sudden winds. It had been a regular exercise aboard the vessel. The crew was experienced, however, and had a system by which to navigate an ocean of winter waters. Throughout the journey there had been no other ships visible. Alere took that to mean that it was as Xu Liang had stated; that the men who had been following them on land had not attempted the same route by sea.
The Path to Destiny
“Though the route across the Sea of Ice is shorter, it’s far more treacherous than the open waters. It will take nearly as long for them to cross the northern span and to descend into Fanese territory through Aer. It would be no trouble to intercept them along the Tunghui.”
Listening to Zhen Yu, Ma Shou considered that he might take ill, and disgorge both his wine and his meal where he sat. The pirate was detestable, in every way he could be, barring the scarcely saving fact that he did happen to be a son of Sheng Fan.
“I think I would do better,” Ma Shou eventually said, on a long and weary breath, “to intercept Xu Liang in the Imperial City itself.”
Zhen Yu launched a crooked smile off of teeth that were equally misaligned. “Well, now, you do know that he’s headed there.”
Ma Shou shuddered internally at the River Master’s quaint and misplaced sense of humor. Secondarily, he shuddered to think of going directly to Han Quan with nothing in his hands to offer save for failure. Failure was not a Ma family trait, though many of them did lack true ambition.
Ma Shou planned to add glory to the lackluster of his family’s reputation. He was going to assist Han Quan in nipping the blossom of Xu Liang’s career before it could bear more than pretty flowers. He would do it for sponsorship from one of the Seven Mystics, so that he might capture the opportunity to become one of them himself. If there was another as skilled at pyromancy as he had become, he had neither met them, nor heard of them. It was true that Xu Liang was also matchless as an aeromancer, and while it was true that neither the seats of the Mystic of the Winds nor the Mystic of Fire were currently occupied, there was only room for one of them. Han Quan would not tolerate Xu Liang becoming his peer at that level—he had no tolerance for the younger scholar being his superior in politics and position. It was Han Quan’s intolerance for Xu Liang that would open the doors for Ma Shou. Those doors would swiftly fall shut if Ma Shou did not succeed in this task.
As bent as Ma Shou was on gaining entrance, it would do him no good to die before even reaching the threshold. Death was not only failure, but assured anonymity. Alive, there would always be further opportunity. Even while the thought crossed his mind, it occurred to Ma Shou that he might do better to serve Xu Liang instead. If he exposed the treachery of Master Han Quan, the Imperial Tactician might be very grateful, and quite lenient regarding past transgression.
Zhen Yu tired of Ma Shou’s silent contemplation, and sauntered away to occupy himself with the banal activities of a scoundrel. Ma Shou welcomed his departure, though noticed less while his mind was occupied with the possibilities fate had placed before him. Possibilities were the pathway to destiny.
Xu Liang would be difficult to approach, however. He had two watchdogs whom Ma Shou found himself most wary of; the devil-faced assassin and the man with an ogre’s rage and strength. One had felled the mighty Xiadao Lu. The other had cut through several men as if they were merely bramble. That one had also survived a fireball meant to scatter several opponents as well.
Ma Shou’s more recent experience had been with the assassin, however. Armed with one of the Blades Han Quan sought to possess himself, the pale soldier of the Hells had sent a disc of purple sky cutting into the earth at Ma Shou’s feet. A sheet of snow arced over him and a cleanly cut swath of frozen earth lay exposed afterward.
A warning. The opportunity to flee, except that Ma Shou was no coward. It was true that he had a tendency to embrace caution, but his goals were not only to survive at any cost. He would have to better assess how to deal with Xu Liang’s barbarian protectors. And it would seem that he would have the distance of the Sea of Tahn to do so.
It was on what Yvain predicted to be their final night aboard the Pride of Celestia before landfall, that a formal feast was held. Meals were not typically had in such a fashion, and so the company had to make do with limited space and roughly hewn tables. The food and wine was worthy of loftier halls, much of it having been reserved for the occasion. Preservation of food in the cold northern waters did not appear to prove as difficult a task as it would have been in a warmer climate. Still, the meat lacked tenderness and the more delicate fruits and vegetables had suffered some bruising and overly sweet flavor that was difficult to counteract, even with the ship’s assortment of spices collected from eastern ports. The predominant flavor, at least, was not the typical saltiness Xu Liang had experienced with many western dishes.
The exception to that had been the elves of Vilciel, whose tastes had been for a certain amount of pungency. Shirisae had explained, when Xu Liang inquired, that a typical elven dish was far less flavorful, and that elves of any region, tended to maintain a blander palate. It was only because of the Phoenix Elves’ environment that such potency had come about. Much of their edible vegetation came from the caves below their city. What they’d grown in the dome above ground was primarily used for practical materials with a small amount of a hearty grain that could withstand the elevation and some root vegetables they had managed by keeping the ground warm by way of the city’s complex furnace system. The lady elf related also that the dragons that were Vilciel’s original inhabitants had at one time flown great distances to hunt and also to raid pastures and fields in order to feed their dwarven slaves.
The mountainous terrain of Lower Yvaria was indeed uninviting, and in many areas uninhabitable by most. Xu Liang would not have expected to find a civilization like that of the Phoenix Elves amid mou
ntains and vast stretches of snowy tundra. It made him wonder about Alere’s home; the Verres Mountains were even further north than Vilciel.
Currently, the Verressi elf was seated across the line of tables, and down from Shirisae and Xu Liang. He shared his space with Tristus, Tarfan, and Taya. Beside their table were Xu Liang’s guards, most of the five of them sitting along the furthest—though still very near—wall with their plates and their cups on the floor with them.
They accepted such things as a lack of room at their hosts’ table with the dignity of their station and their upbringing, both as sons of Sheng Fan and as servants of an officer of the Empire. All of them had fulfilled their role with honor, and Xu Liang was very grateful to them. He could see, however, that it would take some time to transition Guang Ci from his status as a guard to that of a warrior. Being the bearer of one of the Celestial Blades, he would undoubtedly receive the title of general, and be elevated by the Empress to a class responsible for several troops. Xu Liang would support the promotion. It would be unwise to disregard the decision of the Heavens, which was that the Swords be granted to men, and that in doing so, each of the gods had chosen a champion to represent them on the mortal plane.
It would be far easier to convince his fellow officials of the Empress’ court of Guang Ci’s destined role than it would be to even convince them of the basic worth of the others. He had a difficult task ahead of him.
“Tomorrow, you will be on the shores of Aer,” Yvain said to him, drawing his attention to the seat adjacent to his own, at the head of their makeshift table. “It may be some time before I can ever dream of seeing you again.”
Xu Liang nodded once in order to not be argumentative, though he believed that if he was destined to travel a western route again that she might well dream of it long ahead of any decision he might make to travel from his homeland again. He hoped, however, that she would not share a vision with him of any recent travel beyond this return to Sheng Fan. In truth, he had little desire and less strength for it, in light of all that had happened during his recent voyage. The Empress had a heavy struggle ahead of her, and she would rely on his strategies and his planning to assist her on her path to her destiny, as the unifier of the people.
“I’ve decided that I want you to take the Cai Shi-meng scrolls back with you,” Yvain said next. “They belong in Sheng Fan.”
It was true that they did. However, “They have been lost from Sheng Fan for many years, but the words and all that they inspired—for good or ill—have always remained. I know that you treasure them.”
“Yes,” Yvain admitted. “But I treasure your culture more. And it was your culture which delivered Fu Ran to this ship, so it seems proper repayment to return the scrolls.”
“An artifact for an ox!” Tarfan blurted, overhearing while he stood on his chair to reach the wine at the center of the table.
Fu Ran laughed. “If I’m that valuable, perhaps my wages should be increased!”
Yvain chose not to dignify either the dwarf or the former guard who had clearly become both a valued member of her crew and of her heart. It was out of respect for that evident fact that Xu Liang accepted her gift.
He bowed his head. “I thank you, on behalf of my Empress and the people of Sheng Fan.”
“So, what are the scrolls of Ca— of Ci— …”
“Cai Shi-meng,” Xu Liang said helpfully to Taya while he walked with her down the narrow passage that led to the cabins from the dining room. “They are an accounting of events during and leading up to a famous rebellion.”
“Oh,” the young dwarf said. “So, it’s a journal, like my uncle keeps.”
“In its way,” Xu Liang permitted. In truth, it was much more, including mapped tactics of significant battles. Cai Shi-meng’s revolt had forged the path of the Song Dynasty, providing opportunity for the late Emperor Song Bao’s ancestor to perform the great deeds that would ultimately gain the trust and support of the infamous ruler Ganzan Li. It was a tremendous piece of Sheng Fan’s history. Xu Liang was grateful to Yvain for the opportunity to return the scrolls to his people.
“Well, that’s good,” Taya said, perhaps in reminding Xu Liang that she was still with him.
He hadn’t forgotten. In fact, he suspected that she had accompanied him, not for curiosity’s sake, but for his. He harbored no resent toward Taya or her concern, but he would not welcome excessive worry over a matter that had been taken out of all mortal hands.
“We will arrive in Aer early,” Xu Liang told her. “You should take your rest.”
“I will,” Taya assured him.
They arrived at the room Xu Liang had been permitted to occupy. Xu Liang stopped before the door, and looked upon Taya, then back down the passage at the trailing row of Fanese guards. His men were already assuming the positions they would keep throughout the night as they slept upright in the narrow corridor in order to protect their master from threat. They had and would continue to do so, regardless of what had happened at Vilciel. Since Xu Liang had not seen it fit to inform them as to what precisely had happened, and how it had affected him, none of them appeared overly aware. They perceived that his health was not what it had been before beginning the quest for the Swords. That was all that Xu Liang wanted them to perceive or consider, for now.
“Here,” Taya said, drawing his attention back to her.
The young dwarf held out a small packet. Xu Liang held his hand out to receive it, and Taya promptly placed it into his palm.
“Drop these herbs into some hot water and drink them,” she instructed firmly. Plainly, she was expecting resistance. “They’ll help you to sleep sounder.”
“I see,” Xu Liang replied. And then he bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“You are going to take them, aren’t you?” Taya asked while Xu Liang turned to the door.
Xu Liang looked over his shoulder at her. He nodded once again, making no promise beyond what may have been implied with the gesture. And then he opened the door to his temporary room.
Behind him, Taya let out an abrupt breath, and retreated back down the passage. Xu Liang listened to her muttering at his guards for a moment, and then closed himself into the small room. He stopped just inside the door and inspected the tiny package in his hand. The young dwarf had folded brown parchment around a mixture of dried berries and other herbal elements. He wondered how well they would actually enable him to sleep, if he were to obey her instructions.
And then he thought of the prospect of another night spent in turmoil with himself, but moreover with the Phoenix. The fire elves’ god was insistent that he not only live beyond his death, but that he relive all that had led him to their meeting—a meeting between a mortal man and a burning, relentless god.
Xu Liang wondered if he avoided their nightmare rendezvous, if the gift of dubious auspice would be revoked.
The Phoenix had emerged with the Storm Blade as its earthly conduit. The goddess of storms, and of renewal…Shi Tan, lover of Zan Jang, who was the god of the of the morning sky and herald of the rising sun…both of them servants of the Sun God, Cheng Yu. As the bearer of the Moon Blade, Xu Liang was the mortal champion of Mei Qiao. It occurred to him that his resurrection was perhaps by order of the Sun God himself, on behalf of his love and in the interest of the battle against the Dragon. And regardless of any of it, resurrection had afforded him the opportunity to resume his duty to the Empress and to Sheng Fan.
One should not avoid or attempt to suppress a blessing.
Xu Liang closed his fingers over the packet of sleeping remedy and carried himself to his bed. He deposited the herbs onto a stand along the way.
The night before arriving in a new country was not to be one of sleeping. The lantern remained lit in the cabin Tristus shared with Tarfan and Alere. The old dwarf required it for his journal keeping, but even so, it would likely have kept its flame due to a shared lack of interest
in either darkness or sleeping.
Tristus lay on his side within the lower bunk across from Tarfan, watching the smallish elder scratch his quill across pages that also appeared home to rough illustrations. By the look of it, his book had not been neglected. There was a thick portion of full pages for him to rest his hand upon while he busily filled another.
“Have you ever been so far from your home as Sheng Fan?” Tristus asked him.
Tarfan peered across at him, continuing to write. When his green eyes returned to the page in front of him, Tristus thought he might not answer. But then the dwarf said, “Not quite so far as that, lad. Not quite…so far as that.”
He seemed to be lost in concentration, and Tristus wondered if he should let him alone.
“I’ve traveled with Xu Liang before, mind you,” Tarfan said suddenly. “In fact, the both of us journeyed well into your country at one time, boy—in search of an ancient city.”
Tristus could only assume that it was Eris; there seemed to be no other city within the borders of Andaria that any mortal found as elusive or interesting. It was the very place that Tristus had gone in search of after his banishment. He wondered if it had been an earlier quest for the weapons that drew Xu Liang, but decided not to ask. Instead, he smiled at Tarfan and said, “How long ago was that?”
“Seven years,” the dwarf answered immediately.
“Seven years,” Tristus echoed. “Xu Liang must have been very young.”
It was at that moment that Tarfan cast him a sidelong glare. Whatever had passed through the dwarf’s mind in that moment, he said only, “Yes.”
Tristus considered saying nothing more for the night, and laid himself down on his back.
