Five Kingdoms

by T. A. Miles

  Bringing Kirlothden to a halt, Shirisae paused to take in a better view. The tortoise spanned the river with all four clawed feet at rest upon either shore. It was a bridge, the architecture of which had been painstakingly designed to appear as a fantastic beast. The head and neck supplied the slope on the entering side with the tail leading off. Its shell was an articulate accumulation of pillars and a series of sharply angled roofs adorned with glistening shingles and wispy banners. The entirety of it was painted in shades of yellow and gold with green or red accents throughout.

  “Jung Ho Bridge,” Xu Liang said, having stopped not far ahead. The others accumulated behind and beside him in order to take in the monument below. “The tortoise was among the first creatures set upon the world by the Jade Emperor. The river is its breath, manifested as water to provide defense against intrusion into the heart of Sheng Fan. The bridge itself is also an icon of guardianship. It’s said that only the honorable will be borne across its back. Defilers are spat toward the sea.”

  “If I wasn’t already nervous to cross it,” Tristus said, “I suspect I am now.”

  Xu Liang turned his head, but didn’t quite look back at the knight. It was a manner of mild perturbation the mystic had adopted in Tristus’ presence since just before leaving Vilciel. He said, “You have nothing to fear, Tristus Edainien.”

  Shirisae believed that was true, about all of them, and she believed also that the mystic’s words had not been in warning, only in relating the significance of the bridge to them. She was uncertain which among them was more superstitious; Tristus or Tarfan.

  “Dwarves aren’t among the best swimmers in Dryth,” the dwarf said, as if in response to the thought. “We’re too dense, and tend to sink.”

  Shirisae believed that Tarfan was shaping his defense in advance, and that the dwarf would insist on walking across, rather than chancing a fall from the back of a horse.

  “The railing looks high enough,” Taya said, in spite of her uncle’s claims. “If it’s not going to be coming to life to throw me directly into the water, I won’t concern myself.”

  “Suit yourself, lass,” was her uncle’s response.

  Shirisae smiled, guiding Kirlothden forward when others began downhill toward the river.

  Jung Ho Bridge had come into view well before they arrived at the landmark structure. It was a monument of considerable size in Sheng Fan, built during the days of Ganzan Li’s rule, over one hundred years ago. Though a part of Xu Liang was forced to resent that it had been erected at the expense of the Empire’s financial stability at the time, he could only admire its craftsmanship and the immensity of all that it represented. Initially, it had been a simpler structure, one of a series of wide bridges constructed for the express purpose of moving troops across the Tunghui during the early expansion of the Empire. It was said that the river had since swollen, demolishing all of the bridges save one, which Ganzan Li then rebuilt in the form of the Master’s Tortoise, as a symbol of the lasting strength of the Celestial Empire. The use of the term Celestial Empire would later diminish, in the shadow of the Five Kingdoms Resolution. As well, the symbolism of the bridge had nearly been lost in light of Ganzan Li’s focus on monuments over management. During his rule, Ying had been invaded by outsiders from the north, who had used the Jung Ho Bridge as a point of deeper invasion, nearly making a mockery of the what the tortoise represented. It was Ganzan Li’s gross neglect that had inspired both his assassination and the policy that had been intended to preserve, but that now threatened the land.

  It was when matters of both the past and the future began to weigh upon Xu Liang’s heart again that Gai Ping elected to say, “You return to the heart of our empire successful, my lord.”

  Xu Liang accepted the words with the small smile the elder likely meant to inspire. “I could not have succeeded without your aid, Gai Ping. I will not forget the sacrifice of Deng Po, nor of Hu Zhong or Yuan Lan. I regret that their swords were lost in the Flatlands of Lower Yvaria.”

  “Where your life was nearly lost,” Gai Ping pointed out. “They would have gladly given their swords and their lives again to protect you.”

  Xu Liang knew that was true. All of his guards were men of honor and courage. Even the youngest of them had lately been tried and proven—selected by the gods to retain a role as a defender in what was to come, though not a defender of Xu Liang alone. Guang Ci would become a general of the Empress’ army. He would command troops in the conflict that lay before them. So, too, would the other bearers—without reservation had they been of Fanese birth—but it would take time for the people to accept them as divinely elected champions. It would take time and considerable effort, on their parts as well as Xu Liang’s.

  The thought moved with Xu Liang down the embankment that would bring them to the bowed head of the tortoise. Stones followed the arc from head to toe that would form a path between ornate yellow pillars which supported the close trilogy of roofs that formed the shell. The architecture shaded the bridge, creating a pocket of darkness beneath the morning sky. It was not a deep darkness. Still, Xu Liang sent Wan Yun and Gai Ping ahead to probe the shadows.

  While the two guards ushered their mounts to a faster pace, Xu Liang scanned the river and its banks toward the west. He could see no sign of men having recently traversed the Tunghui by boat or by foot.

  The bank was steep at either side and the bridge built high enough to permit the passage of ships beneath it. It would be a suitable location to plan an ambush, but looking for the detectable traces of one, Xu Liang found nothing. Nothing appeared visibly out of place or recently restored to appear as if it were in place despite disruption.

  Ahead of the company, Wan Yun and Gai Ping arrived at the head of the bridge. Both rode onto it, but the elder stayed on the north side while his junior ventured south. Their arrival did not trigger an assault, nor were any traps revealed with their presence.

  For the moment, Xu Liang felt secure in moving forward. But it was in that moment when clouds slipped away from the morning sun, and a shadow was cast on the water. The formation was of the tortoise, and of a dragon tucked beneath its belly.

  From atop his mount, Gai Ping saw it as well, and called out to Wan Yun, but the ambush was already in motion. So, too, was Alere. In the moments the bandits of the Jade Carp were cresting the embankment, the white elf was riding full tilt toward the bridge to receive them. Tristus was soon to join him, instructing Taya to hold on to him. On the south end of the bridge, men rushed out from hiding amid boulders and within close stands of trees. Wan Yun prepared to face them alone, but Alere’s speed and skill atop his mountain-bred mare made it evident that the guard would not be alone for long. Tristus held back to assist Gai Ping.

  While Xu Liang was instructed Cai Zheng Rui and Shi Dian to join the fray, the whisper of arrows passed overhead. There were not many, and they were not aimed to strike individuals. Xu Liang and Shirisae both looked back to witness the projectiles arcing high, their flaming tips soaring toward the bridge.

  Xu Liang quickly raised one hand to chest level, and swept the other in front of himself, stirring a wind that altered the course of many of the arrows. They missed the bridge for the most part and plummeted toward the river. The tortoise’s shell was only singed by the near pass of one of the bolts.

  “Let us see to the men behind us,” Xu Liang instructed, turning Blue Crane around to head back up the hill.

  Shirisae and Guang Ci followed suit with Tarfan accompanying the fire elf.

  The men who had fired upon the bridge now took aim for Xu Liang and the others coming at them. A crack of thunder preceded the unleashing of Firestorm’s power. The Storm Blade sent an energetic orb of lightning in the direction of the bowmen, who promptly scattered to avoid being struck. It served two of them little good. The remaining three managed to escape toward their fellows. A unit of eight to ten men armed with swords and pikes rushed forward to me
et the attack. Bolstering their courage was a fireball, cast by the pyromancer positioned near the top of the final hill before the bridge—the point where Xu Liang and the others had just been. The bowmen were realigning themselves near to the pyromancer.

  Xu Liang, Guang Ci, and Shirisae guided their horses around and away from the fireball, but another was swiftly cast. The bright orange flame tumbled toward Xu Liang with force. He evaded it by continuing to move. The air became briefly superheated in the space behind him, allowing him to feel how swiftly and potently the man could work the mystic art of fire. He believed that he was the pyromancer’s target, which would make finding a place from which to combat the fire with wind all the more difficult. He would require at least a few moments to safely stage his counterstrike.

  Shirisae, meanwhile, was charging the men on foot. Firestorm arced down upon multiple victims in an impressive display of silver lightning that trailed her every move, while at some point Tarfan had abandoned the elf’s horse for the ground. The dwarf moved with improbable dexterity, axe in hand to deflect the ensuing attacks of bandits.

  Guang Ci rode toward the enemy leader with the Night Blade extended. A muted glow clung to the dark sword while the young guard held it low in preparation of a sweeping strike, undoubtedly one that would throw the pyromancer from his mount if successful. The threat he offered, demanded the fire mystic’s attention, and enabled Xu Liang the opportunity to organize his own strike.

  There were enough men crawling up from under the bridge that Tristus was grateful for the arrival of two more of Xu Liang’s guards. Had Gai Ping’s response not been prompt, these assassins would have been upon the elder in moments. The circumstances were repeated at the opposite end of the bridge. Thankfully, Wan Yun did not have long to wait for Alere’s support. The elf and Breigh were across the bridge at a pace one could only come to expect from that particular pair of horse and rider.

  It was with the twilight glow of Aerkiren in the corner of his vision that Tristus was deflecting attackers from the dragon-shaped boat below. He scarcely had time to recognize the sensationally artistic way the Fanese constructed what others might have considered mere tools, though it did rest at the back of his mind. At the foreground of his consciousness was Dawnfire, responding to the movements of wrist, hand, and arm as if it were crafted as an extension thereof. He had never felt so coordinated and in command of himself as he did with the Dawn Blade. He knew better than to consider that he had command of the weapon, for he knew that it was in one way or another a Godsend.

  Gai Ping stayed atop his horse, cutting downward at his opponents, who worked to knock him from the saddle. Cai Zheng Rui and Shi Dian had dismounted and were taking on opponents swiftly and directly, just as Tristus had done. The animals had moved from the fray—Sylvashen carrying Taya with him—which enabled all of them more room to contend with the ambushers. A series of taut jabs with Dawnfire had knocked one man to the railing, where Shi Dian used his own spear to sweep the man’s feet out from under him, sending their opponent over the railing.

  Tristus only just glimpsed the bandit sliding toward the outer edge of the bridge’s structure, where he presumably fell off and into the river below. A blade struck his armor, but not enough to break through. The force of the blow shoved him a step forward, but he turned quickly to counter, sweeping the Dawn Blade in a lateral arc that sliced his attacker across the chest and followed through to knock two more of his accomplices flat upon the bridge. A white-gold band of light lingered in the air in the wake of the Blade, humming softly beneath the sounds of combat. To Tristus’ surprise, the glow itself deflected even a fourth man who had thought to simply run through it as if it were no more than a reflection of the sun’s morning rays. He had not anticipated that, but he would bear it in mind from then on.

  Alere had arrived by Wan Yun’s side before the man had to face the ambush force on the south end of the bridge alone. He’d announced Aerkiren to their opponents in his traditional manner and then dismounted from Breigh, flinging a long swath of the Blade’s energy out at the oncoming men. Two were caught by the purple glow and brought down at once. It wasn’t enough to frighten the others, however, or even to slow them down noticeably. That meant they were incredibly foolish, or they’d been paid an amount worth the overlooking of caution. Even in the event of the latter, they were still incredibly foolish. Alere counted no more than twenty of them, if that. They would be taken down easily. Alere recalled the power of the rogue of Fanese origin he and Xu Liang had faced in Lower Yvaria, but these men had neither that one’s size nor his strength.

  Wan Yun seemed to feel the same, and did not hesitate to engage opponents when they arrived. Alere and the Fanese guardsman fought as if they were defending the bridge over simply themselves, and perhaps they were. It was undoubtedly the plan of these assassins to entrap them on the bridge and potentially to set it afire. An effective plan, poorly executed. They would pay for their error.

  A man lunged toward Alere, driving a short spear with both a hook and a blade at the head of it at his chest. Alere hopped backward and turned to the side. Catching the shaft with one hand, he jerked his attacker toward him and into his sword arm, knocking the pommel of Aerkiren against the man’s unprotected jaw. At that range, Alere wasn’t able to gain enough momentum to do more than disrupt his opponent, who held fast to the spear. Alere disliked the risk that came with attempts to impale an enemy, and swiftly kicked the man instead. It required two such assaults to the man’s leg to convince him to fall and relinquish his weapon, which Alere then slung toward the legs of another enemy. When the iron shaft struck the front of the next man’s legs, he also went down. Alere had learned at an early age to deal with numbers by crippling them—at least to make a meaningful attempt to do so in the moment.

  Wan Yun seemed not to disagree, and was busily driving attackers away from his mount through various forms of assault that were not immediately lethal, but that would weaken them. For now, they had to keep the enemy at bay and away from the bridge.

  Taya was not even a master of ponies, let alone of full-sized horses, but she’d been riding in this company—and with Tristus—long enough to have some better familiarity with the beasts and how not to get borne off to the ends of Dryth on the back of one. The guards’ horses had sprinted a short distance and Sylvashen had run with them for a small span as well. With a firm grip on the reins, she coaxed the red beast to a lighter pace and eventually to a stop. That seemed to persuade the other horses to do the same, though not immediately. Taya watched to be sure they weren’t going to bolt again, and when they seemed to be lingering in the area, she looked behind her at the bridge. Tristus, Shi Dian, and Cai Zheng Rui were busily keeping men off the bridge. There was a boat below it; that was about all she knew. Who these men were could be assumed, but she didn’t know for certain that they had to do with the rogues who had tracked them through the Yvarian mountains, or the people Alere claimed to have warded off in Willenthurn. If it was them, they were determined.

  There didn’t seem to be any overwhelming dangers pending near or on the bridge, beyond the basic fact that people were trying to kill her friends. She wanted to help, but the last time she had wound up contributing to their knight’s berserker onset. She never wanted to see that again. Battle seemed the last place Tristus should have been, yet his need to fulfill some sacred purpose would let him exist no other way. It was a form of madness in the world.

  The sound of further conflict came to her ears from the hill overlooking the bridge. Looking toward it, she could just see the figures of her friends and more enemies engaged in a struggle that involved random outbursts from the Storm Blade and heavy demonstrations of fire.

  A sound of frustration escaped on Taya’s next breath. “There has to be something I can do,” she said to Sylvashen.

  The red horse dug its hoof in the dirt a couple of times in demonstrating its own edginess. She could feel that this animal wante
d to run, not out of fear, but for the simple fact that it was young and full of energy. Taya decided to soothe it somewhat with gentle strokes along its mane. The last thing she wanted was to be holding on for dear life in the saddle of a runaway horse.

  “There has to be something I can do,” she muttered again, biting her lip while she looked back and forth between the bridge and the hill.

  And that was when someone sprinted across the grass toward the hill. She’d never seen a man move quite so fast; it was as if his legs were possessed of some spell, enabling him to run at a top speed for longer than any man could have gone normally. He didn’t slow so much as a step when he arrived at the hill and began up it, directly toward…

  “Xu Liang!” The name came out somewhat strangled as panic pinched at her throat. She shouted afterward, knowing that her voice would never carry that far or above the sounds of battle. She continued to cry out the mystic’s name anyway, and began trying to kick at Sylvashen’s flanks. Her legs were far too short to ignite any real motion from the creature, so she turned in the saddle enough to be able to reach its rump, which she smacked firmly, as many times as was necessary to get the beast moving.

  And move, Sylvashen did. It was all Taya could do to position herself somewhat upright in the saddle while she found herself holding on for her life. She determined not to think about falling, willing herself to maintain her grip on the reins while shouting out to the mystic.

  The Night Blade brought a sensation of instant power and glory when it was wielded. Guang Ci did not feel stronger, necessarily, but he felt that he could not be stopped, almost that there was no force that would dare try to stop him. For an instant, it drew anger from him that the enemy had not simply fled. Soon following, he felt bolder for the pyromancer’s seeming foolishness. Did he not see how quickly the Night Blade would consume him?