by T. A. Miles
“Lord Xu Liang,” Guang Ci said.
Xu Liang looked over at him, inviting him to continue. “Speak what is on your mind, Guang Ci.”
The young guard said, “We are being followed.”
With a frown, Xu Liang looked behind them. At the same time, he drew Blue Crane to a stop, turning the steed partway around while he examined the court behind them. At this hour, the pathways were little traveled, except by shadows cast beneath the moon’s glow and the lights of the city. There were no forms behind them…none that were readily apparent.
Xu Liang looked long into the patches of light and darkness that composed the court around them. A breeze stirred and carried on it the breath of danger. The presence was one which he had not felt since the western realms, and while he could not readily see it while his spirit was not in an extended state, he could feel it. Guang Ci was right, and what impressed him in the moment was not the stalking spirit that harassed their knight, but that Guang Ci had become sensitive to it. He wondered at once what that meant—Guang Ci was not a man harboring vengeance or the level of past trauma that would have such a being target him for its own use, which was how he had come to understand the berserker state. And if Guang Ci was not a candidate for that much rage to channel through, then he must have been guided by other elements.
“Do you know what lingers around us?” he asked his guard.
“No,” Guang Ci replied, and felt compelled to bow his head apologetically.
“How long have you noticed it?”
Guang Ci considered the question, then said, “Not before now.”
Xu Liang accepted his answer. “It is not an immediate threat. We must not dignify it.” On those words, he guided Blue Crane toward the north court once again.
Guang Ci followed suit.
“It may be that the Night Blade has awakened new sensitivities within you,” Xu Liang explained, for both their benefits. “It comes with responsibilities that will…carry you beyond your service as a bodyguard.”
Guang Ci’s expression grew tight with discomfort.
Xu Liang watched him for several moments, recalling the man’s youth and the dedication to service he had demonstrated from the beginning of his appointment. “Guang Ci, you came from the ranks of foot soldiers, selected for your determination and endurance. You were recommended by General Tian Qi, and from the beginning it was made apparent that such high responsibility would challenge you. It would challenge your discipline and your patience with yourself.”
The words inspired a deeper frown, and also a nearly reflexive bow that was too often asking for forgiveness. He was more intolerant of error than any master would have been, even Xu Hong.
Xu Liang sighed softly and looked ahead of them, realizing that his observation of the younger man may have been applying more pressure than was necessary in the moment. “It has been a long journey teaching you to not punish yourself for your missteps more than any man ought to, and to help you realize that perfection is not a human trait, but a divine one. Perfection will only come in moments, through clarity granted by the Heavens. It is not a man’s role to be perfect, but only to strive for excellence in service to the Empress. By serving me, you serve the Empress, and now you will serve her differently, Guang Ci…as a bearer of one of the Celestial Swords. You must come to understand that. You must study and ponder, so that you might know the weapon granted you by the gods.”
He sensed Guang Ci looking at him now, and maintained a patient tone and expression.
“You have the path of Zan Dexiu ahead of you,” Xu Liang said. “You must travel it with discipline and fortitude. We will all look to you for strength and guidance in darkness.”
“Lord Xu Liang,” Guang Ci said. “I feel a sense of brotherhood with my fellow bearers…and fear what may become of our unity if the merit of the Swords is not recognized by others.”
Xu Liang had not expected to be presented with such a concern, but perhaps he should have been. It would be dishonest of him to deny that he felt any connection to the others, not only as bearers, but in some ways…familial as well. They had all come over long distances together, been endangered together, and protected one another. So, Guang Ci had already advanced beyond a bodyguard and was, perhaps, ahead of them all in the process of coming together.
“I have not only taught you, Guang Ci,” Xu Liang said to him with a bow. “You have taught me as well. I am grateful.”
Guang Ci answered with the only response known to him, which was to twist toward Xu Liang and bow in return with his fist pressed into his other hand.
Xu Liang accepted the gesture with the dignity of his station as Imperial Tutor, but less specifically as the younger man’s master.
A heavy door closed in his dreams.
Xu Liang stopped, looking around him at the outer chamber of the Temple of Divine Tranquility. Polished stone walls inlaid with carvings of floral medallions and rimmed with bright murals of tree-ornamented mountains and scrolling clouds surrounded the space. Lanterns that were hung by chains cast a golden wash upon all of it. Ahead of him lay the tracery-framed entry to the corridor leading to the inner sanctum of the temple. Behind him sat the double doors that had closed, which he held no memory of having opened or passed through.
The chamber felt still, and yet something alive moved through the space, something other than himself, and which he recognized.
It was with recognition that the form of the demon appeared, tendrils of hazy light manifesting from the shadow and weaving the body that appeared as a demonic rendition of an elf. It stalked the outer rim of the chamber like a tiger, cloaked in the fires of its own destructive passion.
“We’re becoming familiar with one another,” the spirit of the knight’s fury said while it paced the edges of the room. “It grows easier for us to see one another.”
“Tristus Edainien is not here,” Xu Liang pointed out. “Why are you?”
“I am not confined by what I possess!” the demon roared, aspects of its form and its fire leaning aggressively toward the center of the chamber, where Xu Liang stood both still and calm.
He did not know why he should be so undaunted in the face of this spirit. Perhaps it was that the nature of this beast was so raw and so simple in its motivations. There was nothing about it that attempted to confuse. “Why have you come here?” he asked of it.
“You draw me,” the demon replied, making a nearer path while it continued to move around the edges of the room. “You lure me…as you come nearer to my realm in leaving yours. You offend me as you try to stand in the way of my revenge.”
“It is not your revenge, but Tristus’.”
“All revenge is mine!” the demon bellowed, the fire of its being raising to the chamber’s ceiling. It licked across the space, damaging nothing, and then was gone. The lanterns swayed on their chains and a silence that was filled with the sound of itself swelled throughout the room. It was the sound of presence, one which saturated deeper than the demon of vengeance alone. Very slowly, it took on the pattern of breath, filling the air around Xu Liang. The sound of something deeper tumbled beneath the breathing, echoing after itself in a slow, drumming rhythm.
Ahead of Xu Liang, the Jade Hall became lit with the glow of fire, just as it had when he and his colleagues had entered before.
The ancient manual for slaying a dragon drifted to the front of Xu Liang’s mind.
Stab through its eyes and it cannot see. Cut open its stomach and it cannot eat. Severe its spine and it cannot move. Puncture its lungs and it cannot breathe. Impale its heart and it must die.
The last step repeated itself in his thoughts more than once, to the rhythmic beating in the air. The beating of Chaos’ heart. The rhythm became heavier, drowning…oppressive.
The air began to distort, its dimensions patterned with fire and shadow. The heartbeat became quicker. The shapes of the keirv
eshen formed of the shadows. Among them was Han Quan, grinning as if his sensibilities had left him.
“All revenge is mine!” came the shouting of Tristus’ demon once again. “And there is much of it here.”
The rhythm of the dragon’s heart quickened and grew harsher, until Xu Liang could feel it in his own chest.
It was pain that woke him from his dreams, and fear.
He rose from his bed, trailed by his hair and his night robes, which glided softly across the floor. The boards were cool against his feet and the air still, though he yet felt the hot and active atmosphere of his nightmare. He went to the long table beside the room’s wardrobe, where Pearl Moon rested upon its stand. A soft blue glow emitted from beneath the scabbard. It had done so frequently since returning to Sheng Fan—he assumed it had to do with all of the Blades being within such close proximity. His dreams suggested otherwise.
Lifting Pearl Moon from its base, he unsheathed the sword, looking upon the light that traced its edges and began to extend over his hand and arm. “Is it the Dragon?” he whispered.
He placed the scabbard down upon the table and walked from his room, into the wide corridors of his house. When he came to the centermost passage he stopped, looking from one end of it, across its length at the large pair of doors that stood between his private home and the rest of the Imperial City’s innermost grounds; the middle court. The Court of Heaven was the working heart of Sheng Fan. Was it also the heart of Chaos?
There was no answer to be had in the middle of the night.
As quickly as the thought formed, it was overridden. There were answers to be had, and at once. Xu Liang proceeded down the passage, but stopped before the main doors. He instead took the entrance across from his office, entering the suite his guests occupied. These rooms typically hosted friends, family, or colleagues. Xu Liang determined that their function remained the same now, with his fellow bearers as residents.
He passed through the sitting area, intent on visiting the bedrooms individually in order to wake the others, but he was stopped by a silhouette in the window that looked upon the garden. A deep purple glow lingered near the individual perched there.
“The Twilight Blade speaks as well,” he said to Alere, unconcerned with the evident fact that the elf had seen about retrieving his weapon from the room they were to be stored in until their presentation before the Empress.
“I wondered when you would begin to hear the Moon Blade,” the elf returned.
“Wake the others,” Xu Liang instructed. He was not interested in questions or debate, and said immediately afterward, “I know where Chaos dwells.”
“There’s no rest to be had,” Tarfan complained while he shoved his socked foot into his boot.
From the bed compartment across from the dwarf’s, Tristus was efficiently putting on the layers he’d come to Sheng Fan in. The clothes they’d had sized earlier were neither finished yet nor anything he would feel comfortable simply getting into on a moment’s notice. He imagined that if he were to be in Sheng Fan long enough, he would grow accustomed. He had certainly not been in Xu Liang’s country or his home long enough for that level of comfort yet. Besides, the manner in which they were being awakened, before dawn, felt urgent.
“I don’t know if it’s necessary for you to come,” he finally said to Tarfan.
The elder bristled immediately. “I don’t know if you know your own mind, pup! What involves one of us, involves all of us!”
Tristus stopped in the midst of fastening a buckle and looked over at the dwarf. “Of course, you’re right,” he said, and meant it sincerely. He refrained from apology, however, and resumed dressing.
Tarfan might have been prepared for argument, and relaxed slowly when none came, eventually making a concluding sound of affirmation. After a few moments, the dwarf said, “I’ve no intention of being caught alone here, if the mage is up to anything that offends anyone of authority.”
“That makes sense as well,” Tristus admitted while standing. “I’d feel equally awkward if discovered in Xu Liang’s house alone by those who may be riled by any action he has or hasn’t taken.”
Tarfan issued a nod of agreement.
When dressed, they convened in the common room with the others. It felt oddly like Vilciel all over again, but that Xu Liang was standing among them, unhurt, and Alere was present as well, rather than having ventured off alone. For a moment, Tristus lamented the absence of Fu Ran, but let it go.
“Since before I left for your lands, there has been the presence of something within the Imperial City,” Xu Liang began, wasting no time. Whatever had awoken him must have been supremely urgent. “It is a thing of mystery and foreboding. It has bred unrest within the city, and I believe it has contributed to the discord among the Five Kingdoms of Sheng Fan. There has been more aggression, more threat of outright rebellion—within the court as well as outside of it. The keirveshen have been a plague upon your lands. We have known no such beasts here in Sheng Fan, but perhaps there is something related.
“The Spirit Dragons of legend were the guardians of the Infernal Regions. As the Celestial Dragons fired the Blades of the Gods in their great light, it may be that the Spirit Dragons gave rise to the creatures of shadow.”
While Xu Liang spoke, Tristus was relating the spiritual significance to his own understanding of it. To him, it amounted to angels and demons. In Sheng Fan, there were dragons. The concepts were not difficult to connect. He felt as driven to defend against the Spirit Dragons, as he had felt bound to protecting the Church of Andaria from demonic forces. That he had somehow let such a force in on the Order was a failing that he felt he could atone for here, with Xu Liang as his guide. The Order Masters would be offended at the very idea, were they to know of it, but the mystic of Sheng Fan had proved spiritual devotion the equivalent of ten Order Masters. The entire staff of the highest leaders of the citadel had turned away from Tristus. A single officer of a foreign land chose to put faith in him, even after witnessing the part of Tristus that could have destroyed him. His soul remained with God, but his heart was now in Sheng Fan. He would not leave until it had stopped beating.
It was ironic that at the end of that thought, Xu Liang happened to say, “I have heard the heart of Chaos beating, within the walls of the Temple of Divine Tranquility.”
Various expressions of concern and interest were passed around the company. And then Guang Ci brought the Swords not already in the hands of their bearers into the room and laid them down upon the floor.
“We will learn whether or not there is a dragon present,” Xu Liang continued. “And if there is, we will know the task of the Blades.”
“And if there isn’t?” Tarfan inquired, perhaps on the behalf of all of them.
Xu Liang looked upon the glowing spears and the broad sword beside the longer weapons, and said, “Then I will presume the purpose of the Swords is war.”
The company rode with Xu Liang from his residence by carriage—his guardsmen were on horse—through the lantern-lit corridors of the city, to threshold of a garden. From that point, they traveled a network of covered pathways by foot, through thick beds of plants which led them to a building that appeared a small fortress in its own right. There had been guards at two points along their path, whom Xu Liang had moved the group past without altercation. His station was well-recognized, or the men were his own. It was difficult for Alere to tell precisely how the structure of Fanese court was arranged. Xu Liang had claimed that he was among the Empress’ most trusted and relied upon, and he had not made the claim falsely, according to all observable evidence. Still, he was not the emperor, and Xu Liang had also stated that his actions and interests were not always popularly approved of by his peers. The act of leaving his homeland to look for the Swords had been criticized and advised against. Where there was criticism and difference of opinion within a political court, there was often betrayal and co
nspiracy. That much had been made evident with the assassination attempts that had already been made on the mystic’s life.
Ironically, and impressively, it had taken a true giant of the Flatlands to bring him down, and even that had not finished him. It had damaged him, however. And for that reason, the odds were shifting against him. The next attempt made on his life might succeed.
Alere intended to prevent it, but a political environment was more limiting than the wilderness. It would be no easy task to watch for threats, particularly since he preferred to look for them before they became imminent. It spoke of faith and of friendship to him that Xu Liang defied the caution, and even fear of his people by enlisting his and the others’ aid in the current task. If Alere’s own faith had been faltering in the last day, it was renewed now. Unfortunately, it was faith in the mystic, not his people. Trust of groups had been hard for Alere to manage since several groups of his own kin turned away from aiding his ancestors and more recently, his family.
Shirisae appeared remarkably aloof to the history of their people, which made it easy for him to find her detestable. She and her brother were twins, reflections of one another, neither of them instilling either trust or kinship in him. The fact that she carried the Storm Blade did not elevate her virtue as an elf, or as an individual. He had seen her selfishness and witnessed her meddling for her own benefit, even recently. She was more arrogant, because she—being an elf—could only be aware that on the nights she had not slept during their travels, he was also not sleeping. He had witnessed her interrogations of Xu Liang—he presumed for the sake of discovering whether or not Xu Liang’s heart may ever lean toward Tristus. Whether it did or it didn’t…whether it could or could not, it was not her place to attempt to determine and arrange where hearts would fall. He viewed her as an opportunist, and had held that view since her offer of god magic to aid Xu Liang. It was not charity on her part, but whim…the whim of a spoiled heiress. Alere had not been able to overlook it. He managed to be civil, which would do nothing to bond them as fellow bearers of sibling weapons.
