by T. A. Miles
Perhaps he would speak to Xu Liang of his feelings on the matter. Speaking to Tristus was fruitless, owed to the knight’s wont to see only the potential of good will in others. Alere found it a peculiar response to the betrayal the knight had experienced. But again, it may have been that Tristus had all the vengeance he required in the god that walked with him. The god whose spirit Alere had at times seen walking freely amongst them, even here. He did not see Ilnon now, but that seemed to mean that the god had found a pocket of Tristus’ soul within which to lie in wait, until it became time to tear to the surface again, spilling fresh blood through old wounds. If it wasn’t the god himself doing it, then it was something equally volatile.
Alere believed the same could be said about Xu Liang’s dragon. He had no doubt that there was something present.
At the door to the temple, it was Shi Dian who opened one side for them. He and his fellow guards who had survived the journey west—all but Guang Ci—were to wait outside and deter any who might interrupt the investigation. The guards assumed their stances and their master entered first, followed by the other Sword bearers and two tag-along dwarves.
Jiao Ren rushed to dress. He had been awakened by one of his men, who found it important that Xu Liang had gone to the Temple of Divine Tranquility during such a late hour. At first, Jiao Ren found it important that the scholar might have gone alone, after what he and Huang Shang-san had experienced alongside him. He soon found that the importance was in the form of the five outsiders in Xu Liang’s company. Jiao Ren did not trust their presence within the Imperial City, in spite of supporting the Imperial Tutor’s theories regarding the Swords. It did not require Xu Liang’s opponents in the court to whisper at his shoulder about the threat outsiders posed and the liberties the Imperial Tutor had taken. He would not have trusted them, regardless. In that, he and the Supreme General agreed.
A Silent Oath of Brotherhood
The five Celestial Blades were aglow even before entering the temple. Once over the threshold, they began to give off more light, and even appeared at times to reach toward one another. Shirisae walked alongside Tristus and watched the silver light of Firestorm radiate off the weapon’s serrated blade, seeming to caress the golden glow of the Dawn Blade. The pale lights mingling together brought out tones of reddish-orange in Dawnfire and hues of green from Firestorm. As well, the Night Blade’s peculiar darkness was rimmed with indigo while it fell around the edges of the Moon Blade’s pale blue radiance. The purple mist of Aerkiren edged toward both. Beyond the brilliance of the weapons’ initial reunion in Vilciel, it was a phenomenon Shirisae had only witnessed once before, when she and D’mitri were guiding the others through the chasm at the base of Vilciel. With three of the Blades not present at the time, it had not been so vivid as this.
“I’m thinking of Vilciel just now,” Tristus said coincidentally.
Shirisae gave a nod. “There were demons nesting in the shadows of the mountain.”
“I suppose that means that there are demons here as well,” Taya said, walking close between them. At times such as this, the young dwarf seemed a child.
“Or one greater beast,” Shirisae replied, believing that not even children should be held in ignorance where there was danger. She would have preferred, however, if Taya had not insisted on coming into the temple with them.
Taya reached for Tristus’ arm then, and Shirisae smiled at the way the dwarf so readily sought shelter and comfort from their gentle knight.
Tarfan, conversely, could not be comforted. The elder of the dwarves held firmly to his weapon and looked twice at every shadow. More than anything, he seemed to harbor a tremendous fear of dragons, and of fire. The prospect of the two together must have had him quite on edge.
Xu Liang led them across the entrance chamber, over a polished floor and amid pillars and lanterns. The walls were highly decorated with relief work and painted accents. Ahead of them a vast entryway stood with a green glow behind it, the color pressing through ornate tracery. The mystic stopped for only a moment before leading them through, and into a passage that revealed the source of the radiance. The walls were literally carved of panels of what appeared a soft green stone, framed with dark wood or metal and at times, along the top, with more tracery. It was quite beautiful, and Shirisae noticed that there were images of dragons in the panels. She heard no heartbeat, however.
It was with that thought, that she felt a mild tremor beneath her feet. She and Alere looked to one another, apparently having felt it first, though it was not long before Xu Liang brought them to a halt once again.
“It seems as if something is trying to prevent passage into the central chamber,” the mystic said to all of them.
“What lies within it?” Tristus asked.
“The inner sanctum of the temple,” Xu Liang answered. “It is a place of meditation and peace, utilized by rulers of Sheng Fan for communion with the spirits of nature and by mystics for the same reason. The Seven Mystics have recently abandoned use of the temple, believing that a demonic presence contaminates it—a vengeful presence perhaps.”
“Have they tried to do anything about it?” Tristus asked next.
Xu Liang glanced back at him, and seemed to shake his head, but then he said, “I was counseled by the Seven Mystics before leaving Sheng Fan. Two of them were in favor of locating the Celestial Swords. Two were opposed. One gave no opinion and was cast as undecided. Two seats among them were vacant at the time, and it was the Supreme Astralmancer who asked me again to join their ranks. When I would not, he said that I should seek counsel from myself, as if I were among them and not an officer of the court. He said to count my answer to myself and to count the other missing seat as undecided.”
“Did you do such a thing, lad?” Tarfan asked him.
“Yes,” Xu Liang answered.
“And what decision did you come to?” the dwarf continued. “To proceed with your quest, I presume.”
Xu Liang shook his head. “No. I counted myself undecided.”
The dwarf let out a brief, sarcastic laugh. “Glad that you waited until now to reveal that to us.”
“To not be leaned in one direction or the other meant that I was balanced,” Xu Liang told him. “I was aware of the potential success and the possible failure. Neither negated the other. It ensured that I proceeded without overconfidence, and also without fear.”
“Only a Fanese mage can make a winning argument on behalf of indecision!”
Xu Liang paid the dwarf’s comment no mind, speaking to all of them again. “My confidence and my fear have both grown significantly since my quest began. The Swords have been discovered, and it may be for a dragon that they are brought together.”
Shirisae watched him speaking, then looked further down the passage. There was nothing to be seen beyond the walls themselves.
“Stay close to me,” Xu Liang instructed. “Do not stray beyond the reach of Pearl Moon.”
When all of them had agreed, he proceeded toward the temple’s inner sanctum. It was only when they had nearly traversed the length of the passageway that Shirisae realized their footsteps made no sound. Perhaps it was a form of enchantment to maintain the promise of the temple’s title, as a place of tranquility.
As they walked, it became apparent that the temple was a square that led into itself. Another small vibration shifted through the floor while they turned one corner and started for the next. Simultaneously, an orange glow, like firelight, followed the lattice panel along the passage’s length. Shirisae looked past the ornate designs and into the myriad of shadow and light on the other side of the wall in an attempt to see the chamber within and what might have been occupying it. She saw no definitive form, but there did seem to be movement of something or someone.
“We’re not alone,” she said, though it seemed likely that all of them knew it.
It was in that moment that a voice called
out behind them. Shirisae discerned only Xu Liang’s name, spoken in its natural tongue. She looked back to see a young man running toward them. In those moments, the glow of fire swelled as if to halt the newcomer’s passage.
She heard the shout of Xu Liang next, and a transparent curtain of light cast a blue tint upon the passage immediately afterward. She knew it was the shielding dome of the Moon Blade, and that the young man running at them would not make it.
“My God,” Tristus said, as they were witness to fire shooting through the wall’s design work.
But it was not his god that acted, Shirisae noted; it was hers. The form of the Phoenix shot down the length of the passage, carrying in its wake, the protection of Pearl Moon’s light. The silver and green Flame passed through the fire from the inner sanctum, creating a complex web of heat that fanned across the walls of the Moon Blade’s shelter, touching none of them. Shirisae watched it breathlessly, looking back at Xu Liang to see the mystic enshrouded in the glow of the Flame and of the Sword he carried, and also in the light of his own spirit. For a few brief moments, he appeared nearly as a ghost.
When the confrontation of powers ended, the mystic appeared his mortal self again, and also as if he would collapse.
Tarfan and Guang Ci moved quickly to steady him.
“Easy there, lad,” the dwarf said. “I can’t tell you how much I’m grateful for that blade of yours!”
But it wasn’t the Blade alone, Shirisae realized. When she felt the cold eyes of the hunter, she looked over her shoulder at Alere, knowing in that moment that she was not the only one who realized that.
After feeling the free movement of his spirit, as if it might have gone to Jiao Ren of its own accord, Xu Liang felt compressed into the smallest portion of himself. For several instants, he felt trapped there. Eventually, normalcy reestablished itself and he was left in the familiar exhaustion of having spent too much, too quickly. He felt both relieved and antagonized when the young general arrived before him.
“Lord Xu Liang, forgive me,” Jiao Ren began, reminding Xu Liang very much of Guang Ci, which reminded him also that the guard and the general were within seasons of the same age. “You said that no one was permitted.”
When Xu Liang felt recouped enough, he steadied himself separately of the aid offered by both Guang Ci and Tarfan. “Did you think, Jiao Ren, that I included myself in that decree?”
“No,” Jiao Ren replied. He paused for a moment while his thoughts seemed to struggle with one another, and then he bowed. “The outsiders…”
“They are not prisoners of my house,” Xu Liang reminded the general. “I hold myself responsible for their actions, which thus far requires you to take none.”
Again, Jiao Ren hesitated, perhaps while he deciphered the layered meaning within Xu Liang’s response.
Of course, Jiao Ren was entitled, as Fortress General of the Empress’ military, to defend the Imperial City as he saw fit. If that required of him to challenge the Imperial Tactician, then he must do so.
Regardless, Xu Liang said to the general, “You might have been killed. Do not act with such haste again. When you endanger yourself, you endanger others of the Court and ultimately of Sheng Fan. You are the shielding arm of…”
His words tapered before he could finish the reprimand, the writing of Cai Shi-meng returning as if freshly read in that moment.
As the Emperor is the life essence, the scholars the mind, the warriors the armor, and the commoners the backbone, the Celestial Blades are as the sword arm of the land, cutting back all intruders and opposition. Only they can still the chaos that has been stirring since man’s first step upon the land.
The point of view of the Scholar General was not in favor of the current body of power in Sheng Fan during his time, but against it. Xu Liang understood the historical account, but the relevance of Cai Shi-meng’s political standpoint struck him in that moment with remarkable clarity.
As the Emperor is the life essence…
Ganzan Li had been assassinated. To Cai Shi-meng that meant that the life essence of the land had been put out. A usurper had risen in the emperor’s place, and in place of the construct Cai Shi-meng had listed in his writings—in place of the mind, the armor, and the backbone—an imposter had come into being. Sheng Fan was not the body of life the Scholar General had known, but the embodiment of his enemy.
The Blades would cut back all opposition. Only they would still chaos…
Still the chaos Cai Shi-meng believed had become the world in the passing of his emperor? Or satisfy Chaos? Would the Scholar General have courted the favor of such a dangerous element or being, in order to take revenge on behalf of his emperor? What lengths would a dutiful servant go to?
“Lord Xu Liang?” Jiao Ren prompted.
Looking to the now shadowed tracery of the Jade Hall, Xu Liang began to consider the practical application of elements. He himself had used the wind to protect the Empress in his absence. And now there was fire keeping them out of the inner sanctum of the temple…protecting what? He wondered how he could not have seen it immediately.
“There is a spell in place here,” he finally said to the others, first in his own language and again in the language shared by his western allies.
“A spell?” Jiao Ren inquired, seeking confirmation. When Xu Liang nodded, the young general looked to the wall the fire had come through with understanding in his eyes. His next question differed from the one Xu Liang had asked himself. “Whose?”
It was an equally worthwhile question.
“We shall find out,” Xu Liang assured him. To the others, he said, “This may not be a task for the Swords after all. At least, not at this time. Please, forgive my bringing you here at such an hour and with such danger present.”
Guang Ci paid the formality only a customary bow of acknowledgment, perhaps because he could not decipher the words, only the tone.
It was Tarfan who elected to speak on behalf of the rest of them. Placing a heavy hand on Xu Liang’s arm, the dwarf said, “Lad, if danger has a mouth, let it open wide and bellow in all of our faces. We’re with you, even at the risk of being swallowed.”
“Be it oddly stated, I hold that statement true,” Tristus said with an expression hovering between mild amusement and milder dismay.
“I find it beyond the point of needing to be stated,” Alere put in while Taya and Shirisae maintained a silent air of agreement.
Xu Liang bowed his head in response to and with appreciation for them all. In the passing of their words, the Blades shared their own sentiments, the light of each reaching out for the one nearest it. The demonstration was enough for Jiao Ren to notice while he stood in the middle of the Swords and their bearers. He looked upon Xu Liang—much to Xu Liang’s relief—with an air of reverence, and perhaps of acceptance for what was to come.
Xu Liang did not return to his home that night to sleep, but to study. He looked upon the design plans of the temple—brought to him from the archives at the Hall of Literary Profundity—and mapped a version for himself on a separate parchment. Upon his copy, he detailed the plans that would require a small force with which to infiltrate the Jade Hall. The spells in place were as traps, only less tangible, which made it more difficult to negate. It would not be impossible, however. With a phalanx of armored men with shields, a path would be created for himself and a handful of others to pass through the corridors unharmed. He would take Jiao Ren and three of his own guards. The soldiers fortifying the route would not be harmed if the fire from the inner sanctum continued to only attack in brief intervals, and with a carefully laid wind spell that would redirect the flame itself, leaving the men with only conflicting blasts of hot air to contend with. The tremors were likely the effect of a second spell laid by whomever was interfering with the temple, and those had not been enough to throw even the dwarves from their feet. It was possible that the quakes might increase in
force with bodies lingering in the passage, as well as making progress toward the center. Xu Liang would have the soldiers kneel behind their shields once he and the others had safely passed, that they might better maintain their balance.
Use of the elements of fire and earth suggested the involvement of both a pyromancer and a geomancer. It was possible that Ma Shou had been paid, or had simply been inclined, to set the fire spell before pursuing Xu Liang to the western realm—perhaps he had been someone’s guest. He would have been able to maintain the spell through meditation, though that surely had been broken by now, considering his likely fate at the Tunghui. Even so, it was also possible that another mystic had transferred the spell to himself before that event, which meant that there might well have now been a geomancer responsible for the continued presence of both spells. It would be taxing for Xu Liang to attempt to transfer the spells to himself and to then conclude them. He felt misgivings, however, about enlisting the aid of a fellow mystic before uncovering the one who was responsible and felt confident that he could perform the task alone. In order to ensure that he could do so, he would meditate rather than sleep. For the sake of the Empress and the Imperial City, he would show his nightmares no further fear.
