by T. A. Miles
“If there is discord within the ranks of the Imperial Court, I am confident that I will be able to restore order upon my return,” Xu Liang said calmly. “I will go to Fa Leng myself, if necessary, and Ha Ming Jin will be forced back into Xun. All that I would ask from you at this moment, Governor, is your continued support. If you are unwilling to shelter myself and my current company, I will leave your castle tonight. However, I will require supplies for my journey from here to the Imperial City.”
Xiang Wu stared for a moment, revealing nothing of his thoughts. And then he said, “Huang Je, come forward.”
Xu Liang frowned with interest as a man he had utterly failed to notice stepped out of the distant shadows of the room. He was layered in indigo and black brocade. His hair that was not quite black was held up with a purple ribbon, wound tight to hold the tail that was woven into several long braids, symbolizing the long-tailed bird of the kingdom he served.
The man appeared unarmed, but Xu Liang recalled that this man with roots that reached outside of Sheng Fan, did not require a weapon to make himself dangerous. The former entertainer, who had become Xiang Wu’s personal bodyguard, had already established an impressive reputation for himself throughout Ji, as well as in Ying. His acceptance was assisted by the knowledge of his father’s identity among officers of the Empire. In a small way, the man’s presence and position gave Xu Liang some hope for tolerance toward the outsiders he’d brought into Sheng Fan.
Xu Liang nodded to Huang Je in greeting and the young guard bowed in turn, remaining in an obeisant position while his lord offered him instruction.
“Huang Je, I would like you to personally see to the escorting of Lord Xu Liang’s party into the castle. Guide them to the barracks.”
“Provide them with fresh accouterments, if the governor pleases,” Xu Liang put in respectfully.
When Huang Je rose and looked to his master, seeking approval, Xiang Wu nodded, then waved him away. The guard left without making a sound.
“There is barbarian blood in that one,” Xiang Wu admitted, after Huang Je had gone. “But there is also Fanese blood and besides that, he has proven his honor and his valor many times over.”
“I am aware of Huang Je’s deeds,” Xu Liang reminded his natural father. “Though I witnessed none of them, I do not question his honor because it is you who speaks on his behalf. Therefore, I say to you that the men and women presently in my company have proven their honor to me on several occasions. They are worthy of your trust.”
Xiang Wu gave no verbal reply. He simply bowed to Xu Liang and faced the window again. “Goodnight, Lord Xu Liang.”
Xu Liang bowed, lower than he did when making a simple gesture of respect, letting his deep appreciation be known. “Sleep well, Governor Xiang Wu,” he said. He added silently; thank you, Father.
The silence of the mountain stronghold was astounding. In Xu Liang’s absence, Tristus and the others had been largely ignored. There were men nearby—Tristus could hear them moving about along the battlements and around the gate they’d come through—but beyond allowing the company passage, not one stranger had approached them.
“What do you make of this?” Tristus asked Alere quietly, then glanced over at the elf and rather wished that he hadn’t. The look on Alere’s face was of such plain distrust that it made Tristus immediately more uncomfortable than if they’d been left under armed guard.
But then, he supposed they were under armed guard. He had no doubt that an ill move would have those with weapons upon their group swiftly. It nearly made him wish that they’d have waited outside of the fortress walls to receive whatever hospitality they were to receive, if any.
It was in the midst of that thought when a man approached. The stranger was of noticeable height, adorned in dark, though still colorful layers that boasted imagery of what appeared to be peafowls. His features were sharp, and quite fair, exotic in a way that differed even from what Tristus had already seen of Fanese countenances. As well, the man had a poised gait that could only be noticed. Undoubtedly, he would respond swiftly to any perceived offenses.
The arrival of this individual insisted upon another glance in Alere’s direction. The elf’s expression had not improved. At the very least, it didn’t seem to have grown worse.
“He’s a strange one,” Taya murmured under a breath that could only be visible in the chill night air.
“Hush, dear Taya,” Tristus said to her quietly, laying his gaze upon the newcomer once again. If this was to be another incident of prejudice similar to D’mitri’s, Tristus would rather not incite confrontation so soon into their arrival within Sheng Fan. As they’d had Shirisae to mediate on their behalf with D’mitri, they had Xu Liang to do the same here, but the circumstances of this fortress were inarguably quite different than they had been at Vilciel. They’d already been warned that prejudice would not be an odd case, but that the majority would be inclined to assess them based upon their region of origin first.
The representative of Dhong Castle approached Xu Liang’s guards, as Tristus suspected he might. A conversation in Fanese ensued, as Tristus suspected it would. “I wonder why Xu Liang didn’t accompany him?” Tristus said, when it occurred to him that the mystic was nowhere nearby.
“He’s been away from his homeland for some time,” Shirisae reminded. “There is undoubtedly much to be discussed with his peers.”
“I’m sure you’re right about that,” Tristus obliged, though still felt a pang of worry. With how he’d behaved since leaving Vilciel, his anxiety over nearly anything regarding Xu Liang was absurdly elevated. He wished, more than anything, to right the situation somehow, but he found it increasingly uncomfortable to be in the mystic’s company with his feelings now an unsightly piece of their conversational décor. Neither of them had to acknowledge the ungainliness of the subject, but they were both aware of it…at all times, it seemed. In spite of that discomfort, he still found himself longing for Xu Liang’s presence.
“They’re allowing us to stay,” Alere said, drawing Tristus’ attention.
He disregarded the hints of cynicism in the white elf’s tone and wondered how he could possibly have known that. In the following moment, it became quite obvious while the newcomer was walking away from them, and Xu Liang’s eldest guard began ushering them forward and off of their mounts.
They all proceeded to follow instruction. There was some hesitation among them, but nothing that delayed anyone overmuch, not even the elves.
“Is it possible that we won’t see or hear from Xu Liang until morning?” Tristus wondered aloud, though it was not his intention to begin a discussion. Perhaps for that reason, he acknowledged Alere’s response only internally.
“Is it possible that we might be imprisoned overnight?”
Tristus wanted to believe that it should not have felt like a valid question for the suspicious elf to pose, but it did feel valid, given their circumstances—given how foreign their environment was, more than anything.
“I’ll not be kept in a cage,” Tarfan was the first to protest.
Before anyone else’s misgivings could contribute, Tristus said to all of them, “We must trust Xu Liang, and in his absence, we have only the option to trust his guards.”
“The option to leave is not lost yet,” Alere said.
Tristus frowned. Helping Taya down to the ground. “But none of us are going to,” he said. He wondered if he’d said it more forcefully than he had intended to when Alere proceeded ahead of him without further word.
“That elf,” Taya murmured when her feet were firmly upon the stone yard.
Shirisae’s sleekly armored form slid down to the level of the courtyard beside them. The light of a winter moon stroked the more exotic details of her helm, which she secured amid her gear. For the moment, she had elected to keep Firestorm fastened to her back. The serrated edges of the fanciful halberd appeared to glow. Dou
btless, it was not from the moonlight alone; Dawnfire had also taken on an added edge of light. He had noticed that their two Blades, in particular, had a tendency to respond to the presence of one another. It seemed to require more important circumstance for the others, or for all of them to glow at once—circumstances such as reunion, or threat. Perhaps their lack of glow now could be taken as a lack of threat, though Tristus doubted Alere would be comforted so easily.
They were not brought to a prison, but to a barracks…one that may have been lately arranged to serve as a form of incarceration. The beds were simple mats upon simple wooden frames, arranged in an orderly fashion. There were more beds than were required for their group, and yet there was no one else to occupy them.
Alere had stepped into the room first, and begun inspecting it. While there seemed no immediate danger, the room’s emptiness and the emptiness of adjoining rooms held a particularly unpleasant flavor. As well, the neighboring rooms were barred at the entryways by wooden gates that Alere knew from experience were sometimes used to section off areas to be used for the containment of either the diseased or the distrusted. It seemed clear to him that he and the others were considered both in this land.
The appearance of the room warranted a look in Tristus’ direction, that he might communicate with the knight silently that they were, as he suspected, not honored guests. The expression he received in return from Tristus while the knight looked the room over in a similar fashion to Alere was one of resignation to the facts as they appeared to be.
“Somehow, I doubt Xu Liang will be joining us,” Tristus said after a moment.
It was needless to say, and Alere offered no response.
“It could be worse,” Tristus said next, perhaps for his own benefit.
“If it were to get much worse than this disdain, and I’d be willing to start my own rebellion,” Tarfan muttered, testing the firmness of one of the beds before climbing up on to it.
“You’d be fantastically outnumbered, Master Fairwind,” the knight replied while propping the Dawn Blade in the corner nearest to the bed he had selected for himself.
“We’ve been that, boy,” the dwarf retorted with a dry chortle. He settled himself back against his pack, hands folded on his broad chest. In the lantern light, his dark hair and beard appeared a grizzled mess. The glint of his green eyes beneath his heavy brow gave him a somewhat feral look.
By appearances, he was quite different from what Alere had seen of the Fanese so far, as were they all, with the natural exception of those in their group already belonging to the culture. If there was an elven population this far east of the shores of Yvaria and Callipry, Alere had not heard of them. He had his doubts that Shirisae had either.
The Phoenix Elf currently situated the Storm Blade beside her selected bed, and afterward situated Taya onto a bed that was arranged adjacent to her own. It would seem that among themselves, the company had begun to coexist without cultural boundaries. Before arriving in Sheng Fan, that included Xu Liang. But now the mystic had been taken back into the familiar comforts, and perhaps the familiar arrogance of his own people. That the others were not openly threatened by the occupants of the stronghold amounted to very little to Alere. The only gesture that he felt comfortable with was that they had not been asked to separate from either their weapons, or from one another.
He decided on a place for himself, and took steps toward an unoccupied corner beneath a uniquely configured window with four sides that met at angles which graduated from the top down. He’d only just begun to place his small pack down upon the bed when he noticed eyes on him. He looked at Tristus and felt an unexpectedly immediate pull toward him. His emotional attraction had grown over time, but since recognizing it, he discovered that the ensuing physical attraction arrived suddenly. If he were a less controlled individual, it would have lent him to worse haste than that which he had already exhibited. For that reason, he might have ignored Tristus’ gaze, but neither caution nor pride could override his growing sentimentality regarding the knight. He wanted Tristus to realize that he loved him, and so he offered a smile instead of silence. That it earned Alere a smile in return was both unexpected, and uplifting.
That night, Xu Liang composed a letter to be sent by envoy to the Imperial City ahead of him, addressed to Empress Song Da-Xiao. At first, it was quite lengthy, detailing all that had happened to him since their spiritual connection was lost and offering multiple apologies for the inconveniences and concerns he had caused as well as giving advice on what should be done concerning the deteriorating situation at Fa Leng. In the end, he edited it to simply: My Beloved Imperial Highness, I have returned. Await good news upon my arrival in your great city within the next twenty days. I remain your devoted officer and a loyal servant to the Empire, whose glory sustains by your divine wisdom and aegis.
Song Da-Xiao sat within one of her many offices within the administrative palaces, no longer alone. For several weeks she had been outside of the sanctuary Xu Liang had arranged for her. He had done it to protect her from treachery, because her brother had been assassinated and because her father’s sudden death could as easily have been the result of poison, over the unexpected illness that had been blamed. Xu Liang had acted in the interest of her and of the people. The threat had seemed so much more realistic months ago with him present to remind her of the danger, and the protection had seemed so much more genuine with their spirits in communication. Since coming out of their shared meditation, Song Da-Xiao felt abandoned. It made her wish for her oath brother’s return all the more, and at the same time, it made her wonder if they were both still in bereavement over the Empire’s tragedy.
Fully conscious to the world immediately around her, it seemed possible that her nightmares were inspired more by trauma than by reality. It could seem that Xu Liang’s intense method of protection was a response to his own trauma. Song Lu had once said that it was Xu Liang’s duty to worry even when it wasn’t necessary, and that it was his love for them that made his devotion to his duty so powerful. Such words, especially on reflection, increased her love for her tutor. His loyalty may have been the only solid assurance she had, apart from her own devotion to the people. Her role was to protect and guide. In moments of confusion or doubt, it was Xu Liang’s place to advise and assure. He had done so.
And now he was gone. He might have been killed, fallen victim to the savagery of the outer realms. How long could she wait to hear from him before appointing another?
The room immediately around her was empty, but the adjoining offices housed others—guards mostly, but also officers who had yet to retire and who would not, so long as she remained awake. Even so, the air was quiet. Only on occasion did she hear the murmurs of voices from outside of the room. Primarily the sounds that reached her ears were the crackling of fire from the braziers and the poetry of crickets.
A book lay open on the table she’d been sitting at for over an hour. The soft pages, carefully bound with string, lay open to one of the verses of the Creation Histories, contained within the Annals of Winter, which referred to the longest era of Sheng Fan’s history. This particular verse, scribed by Fei Lao centuries ago, was among the writings that Xu Liang had referenced during his study of the Swords. Song Da-Xiao had been trying to read it for days, but each time she visited the manuscript, she found herself halted in the same place.
Slowly, the remaining Celestial Dragons retreated from the Throne of Heaven, whereupon the largest of the Spirit Dragons, calling itself Chaos, killed all but two of its fellows and set itself upon the Throne.
“Chaos,” she whispered to herself.
Was it rebelling again? Would it break through the surface of the world and destroy all of Sheng Fan?
As a girl, she had been terrified of this legend. It had always been her brother and Xu Liang who made her feel safe. Song Lu feared nothing, and Xu Liang always knew the right words to banish her fear. She had neither with
her now.
Footsteps sounded in the room, and she looked over her shoulder. There were only three individuals who were allowed in her presence without escort. With Xu Liang absent, there were only two. She’d seen much of both the Supreme General and the Chancellor of the Court since coming out of the sequestering, but of the two she’d seen more of the chancellor. Han Quan had been a pillar of support since the break from meditation, which had left her ill and weak for a time. Though the elder was a stern and officious man, she felt that he desired to protect her and she understood his grievance against Xu Liang over the sequestering. It was possible that Xu Liang had been allowed to be overprotective.
Looking toward Han Quan did not bring a sense of joy or of kinship, but it did come with some relief and welcome. She spent many of her hours surrounded, yet alone. Han Quan made an effort to include her human concerns as well as to acknowledge her divine station.
The elder came to within several paces of the table, the vast length of the office’s paneled walls outstretched behind him. He had not walked long enough to have come through the main doors, which meant that he had passed through the pillared entryway to Song Da-Xiao’s right, where the office adjoined with the palace courtyard. Her handmaidens were gathered there. There were guards at every entrance. No one would have attempted to stop the Chancellor, not even Xu Liang, though with the sequestering he had challenged the loyalty of every other officer. She had been convinced of the value and importance of such a maneuver at the time, but now she wondered if her trust in her tutor hadn’t been too implicit.
Han Quan bowed. “My Empress, I implore you to take your rest. The hour grows late and your strength may not yet be at its best.”
