Four Barbarian Generals: Dryth Chronicles Epic Fantasy (Celestial Empire Book 3)

by T. A. Miles

  The guards could not charge forward quicker than the mystic’s spell formed. Of the motes of dirt summoned, a cloud took shape, swiftly growing dense. It took form from the floor, up and around the geomancer’s extended hand and the egg that was balanced there, until both were wrapped in a misshapen pillar of rock. The entire process occurred in mere moments.

  Unsure what the full effect of the spell was meant to be, or what may happen if Han Quan was interrupted, Ha Ming Jin gestured for his men to halt. He looked upon the boulder in the middle of the chamber, and at the look of strain on the geomancer’s face. The elder managed to hold a smile around his discomfort, even as he extracted his arm from what must have been a free space, either left after the spell or formed of further manipulation.

  Ha Ming Jin took quick steps toward the mystic, moving wide around the boulder. When he arrived at the other side, he saw that it was solid. The mystic had sealed it after withdrawing his hand. But his hand was empty; the egg was still within.

  “A gift,” Han Quan said. “Keep it safe, else risk the wrath of its parent, or a frenzy of its siblings.”

  Siblings?

  Confusion sat with presence on Ha Ming Jin’s face—clearly, since Han Quan felt the need to further explain.

  “The egg is one of several that were late to hatch,” the elder said. “A dragon of the variety I left behind me at the Imperial City will bear a clutch every fifteen to twenty years. They require no mate.”

  So, the dragon was indeed real…else this was an elaborate lie.

  “This rock,” Han Quan continued, “is not dense enough to defy iron brought against it with great force.”

  Ha Ming Jin looked toward his men, considering whether or not to have them beat the stone apart and the egg with it. He refrained, so that the elder could finish.

  “It will…protect itself,” Han Quan continued. “Attack it at the risk of harm—even death—to the attacker.”

  “Why have you done this?” Ha Ming Jin had to ask. He would not have anticipated such a brazen display, even from Han Quan.

  “I’m a tired old man,” the geomancer informed him. “I wish to rest here, unmolested, for a time. The scent of the egg is…somewhat dampened by the amount of rock between it and the air, but again, this rock is not so strong. Eventually, the odor will seep through. The parent beast will know in what direction to head in order to find one of its surviving offspring.”

  Ha Ming Jin had to admit that he knew nothing of dragons, and could not say with any confidence whether or not the old man’s claim was true. He would have to kill Han Quan—that was unavoidable now—but he would have to take care not to do it with haste that would place his fortress under the same assault as what they had heard of at the Imperial City. He didn’t even know for certain whether or not he fully believed the rumors or the reports. Truthfully, he had intended to accept the dragon egg as a luck token, but on the chance that some years of nurturing would evolve it to something more, piqued his curiosity. Now, he recognized that he had been as foolish in that as Xu Liang had been in abandoning the Imperial City in search of tokens of power. He had also misgauged Han Quan’s desperation, badly.

  “In time,” the geomancer said, “I will take my leave. Only then will I take down this spell, and leave you with the egg. You may at that time do with it what you wish.”

  “It would seem that you’ve left me little choice,” Ha Ming Jin said. “For now, I will accept your terms.”

  Han Quan nodded in reply. “For now, you will. And you will also accept my assistance in strategy, that Xu Liang’s forces might be kept away from Xun. I have no interest in being remanded into his custody, as…I’m sure…you also do not.”

  “I fully intend to take Fa Leng,” Ha Ming Jin reminded.

  “Xu Liang will return this kingdom—and you—to the Empress in a box,” Han Quan informed him.

  For some reason the elder’s blunt manner made it seem as if it were true, and it settled heavily in Ha Ming Jin’s stomach.

  “But he had a dragon to contend with,” the geomancer continued, confirming the reports, or contributing to a bold and theatrical lie. “So we may yet have time.”

  THE WINDS OF autumn had begun to stir across the Imperial City, bringing with it the scents of nature’s subtle changes. In the orchard, it was especially obvious to Song Da-Xiao, and of all of Sheng Fan’s seasons, she preferred summer’s passing over to autumn the most. The air was growing gradually cooler, but the sun was still warm. It would yet be some time before cold settled and longer still before the first flight of snow. The coming months would be better spent in the company of her tutor, learning of things he had devoted his years to studying. Of particular relevance would be all that he had learned of the Celestial Swords. But in light of matters at Fa Leng, there could be no time for such pursuits. As well the court itself required her attentions.

  “I’ve decided that I will appoint Hao Feng to the position of Chancellor of the Court,” Song Da-Xiao announced, after making her move on the chessboard between them.

  “I think that wise,” Xu Liang said to her, his countering play in motion immediately.

  Song Da-Xiao watched him place his stone, then retraced her own movements leading up to it. To play against the Imperial Tactician, particularly while distracted with the affairs of the court was folly, and for that reason, she decided that there would be no further moves made during their discussion. Sitting back, she said, “The rank of Fortress General shall be granted to Liu Tong, though he shall not be made the champion of the Spear of Heaven. I shall withhold that position until Fa Leng has been defended.”

  “I support that decision,” Xu Liang said, eventually taking his eyes from the game.

  Undoubtedly, he had already strategized a win based upon his theory of what moves she would—or could—make. Song Da-Xiao imagined that he had done similarly regarding maps and battle reports from Fa Leng. She was convinced that he was without equal, and that he would see to it that Xun’s rebellion was put to rest. She was not as readily convinced that he would require the aid of foreign warriors to accomplish that goal, or any goal save for another dragon. And that was the port of mystery to which all ships currently sailed; would there be another dragon? Would there be several? Would Chaos itself tear through the floor of the world and swallow the Empire?

  Song Da-Xiao would be spending much time in prayer, requesting the gods’ further protection. It would be foolish to overlook what protection they had already granted, even if it came in a puzzling and to some, intolerable form.

  “In regards to the heroes, including those who have come to us from outside of Sheng Fan,” Song Da-Xiao finally said. “For their brave deeds in defense of my city and ultimately the people of Sheng Fan, I shall bestow rank upon the bearers of the Celestial Swords.”

  Xu Liang bowed his head gratefully.

  “You, Xu Liang, will be given the title of Sleeping Phoenix and you shall remain my highest strategist and personal tutor. The others shall become generals. By your recommendation, I shall bestow titles upon them that will dignify them among the people.”

  “I think that both generous and wise,” Xu Liang replied.

  They had discussed the matter repeatedly and at length, so this conversation was more form than substance. The best and only beneficial angle of approach was to regard these barbarians as delivered by the gods and received by Sheng Fan’s divinely designated leader. In doing so, Song Da-Xiao was simultaneously elevating two servants of the Empire to a status that was nearly as untouchable as her own. With Guang Ci that seemed not so dangerous, but where Xu Liang was concerned, even he advised caution. If presented wrongly, both his critics and supporters would perceive an opportunity by which to advance their own agendas. For that reason, Song Da-Xiao was presenting her decision to him first and privately, so that he could critique her choice of titles and the delivery of them. She believed she had come to a comfortable method for acknowledging their divine purpose, without elevating any of them—
not even Xu Liang—to divine status.

  “Alere,” Song Da-Xiao continued, enunciating the peculiar names as her tutor had coached her, “shall be known as the White Tiger. Tristus will carry on the title given him for his selfless defense of my official and will gain fame as the Iron Horse. Guang Ci will assume the color and rank of the god-beast defeated in the west court, and shall be known as the Black Dragon. Shirisae, will be likened to the goddess of storm and the hunt, and will be known as the Clouded Fox. It will fall upon you, Xu Liang, as their guide thus far, to continue to aid them in their steps toward becoming warriors of Sheng Fan and supporters of the Empire. The governors of the kingdoms will be reluctant.”

  “I recommend that you continue to deal with them both patiently and firmly,” Xu Liang replied, and of her decisions regarding rank and title, he offered no criticism.

  Confident that she had made the correct choices, Song Da-Xiao smiled, though the expression was troubled by the pull of depression over Xu Liang’s pending departure. It had been delayed too long already. “And now I ask you, Imperial Tactician, to join the battle at Fa Leng, and to claim victory through the unchallenged strategies for which you are known.”

  Path to Peace

  LEI KUI HAD the ability to squat anywhere, to occupy a space—wherever it was—and to remain there idly and quietly, as if that space and the necromancer had belonged to one another for years. At the same time, the sight of the necromancer surrounded by the simple walls of a simple tent, crouched upon an unadorned mat among only a few sacks and boxes of supplies was a peculiar offense to the senses. Ma Shou continued to feel that Lei Kui was out of place, despite the necromancer’s contented stillness.

  Is there a palace in the hells for you? Were you spawned of an ogre and a demoness? A dragon and a goddess?

  For too many days the questions had drifted through the murky fringes of Ma Shou’s mind like tadpoles foraging along a bank. All the while, Lei Kui calmly refused to attend Ma Shou’s curiosity, making him feel more and more like a mere man in the presence of an immortal spirit. He had still not been labeled or acted upon as a prisoner, but the necromancer had him chained regardless. Ma Shou’s bonds were of wonder and mortality, a fine strand bearing the strength of the heavens, interwoven with hells-fired iron. He was going nowhere.

  Ma Shou observed the face of the beauty with ceaseless fascination. Though physically, there was one body with one face sat before him, he consistently felt as if he were somehow witness to two—as if the physical body of one stood just beneath the surface of a cursed lake with the spiritual form of another drifting incessantly in and out of view. The features of the two aligned and merged, like an eclipse of sun and moon…like two become one.

  It was then that Lei Kui looked at Ma Shou. Eye contact pulled him briefly into that imaginary lake. A rush of cool surprise rinsed through his soul, and all of him hesitated. Had he wanted to, Lei Kui could have drowned him just then…pulled him into the abyss of his cursed existence.

  But he did not. With the interlaced tones of a prince and princess of the Infernal Regions, the necromancer said, “Watch for Guo Sen’s return.”

  Ma Shou continued to hesitate, his gaze falling to the delicate, pearl-toned fingers of the necromancer, which danced with the ivory of small fragments of bone. Lei Kui had been sorting through a modest pot of them since retreating from the heat of the early autumn afternoon. All around them, the bustle of the outermost fringes of the Imperial City—the clinging collection of simply built shacks and permanently raised tents—stirred and swelled, like sediment rising off the base of a pool with every disruption. Surely, Lei Kui would have had no trouble entering the outer city at any hour. On sight, he could easily have been mistaken for the fairest child of any family of renown—even the notoriously beautiful Xiang family.

  But what would the necromancer do once inside? That was a recurring question in Ma Shou’s mind.

  And then he heard his name. First, it was whispered by the sweet sister voice. The better heard tone of the elegant brother followed closely, the more present of the dual voices anchoring Ma Shou, reminding him that he had something to do.

  With a bow of his head, Ma Shou retreated out of the tent in order to perform the task given him. It was in the open, energetic air of the attached village where Ma Shou smelled the earth and animal rank, and came to fully realize that the interior of Lei Kui’s tent held the scent of embers, a mustiness that reminded Ma Shou of the bodies of moths collected around lantern legs and also of lilies on the water. In his mind he heard the rapid thrum of dragonfly wings, drops on water, frog songs, and the combing of wind through reeds. Again, the smell of earth came to him, but this time it merged with the setting in his mind and was joined by the odor of wet, rotting wood and fungus. He envisioned the necromancer, weaving his element from the dank decay of what had once been living. In the hands of such a mystic, death transformed and became new life.

  Ma Shou wondered if the bones in the urn yet retained some remnant traces of death that Lei Kui could work with. Or perhaps he was a bone collector after all, gathering up the mortal relics of the dead so that he might read the fates of the living. It made Ma Shou wonder about his own fate, but even if bones could spell it out, he decided he didn’t want to know in advance. Known fate was difficult to alter. Unknowing, he felt as if he still had some hope at defying the plans of the gods. Since he was still alive, after all that had happened, he suspected he was having some unplanned success.

  He supposed that Zhen Yu was as well, in his way.

  Thought of the former pirate had Ma Shou looking for him. Lei Kui had sent him off before entering the village. He had been gone for more than a day by now, but Ma Shou suspected he was not unattended. Looking to the sky, Ma Shou searched until he located the silhouette of a bird of a certain size and form. Perhaps Zhen Yu would finally perish, as he should have done weeks ago, and the vulture would feast belatedly upon his corpse. It was still reasonably near to the village—it would make for quite a scene, should there be witnesses. It occurred to Ma Shou that such a scene of disquiet and eeriness might have been the necromancer’s plan…to stir unease along the walls of the Imperial City. Many possibilities crossed Ma Shou’s mind regarding Lei Kui’s intentions, and all of them put a stone of dread into the pit of his stomach.

  He began to wonder…if he crept away and alerted someone—a guard or an official—perhaps he would be received with some gratitude and allowed safely within the walls of the city.

  And what then? Flee inside to face Han Quan or Xu Liang…or remain outside and at the mercy of Lei Kui.

  Ma Shou had never felt so distinctly separated from his peers. A greater role in the order of the mystic arts seemed out of reach and he felt a foreign lack of concern for that while he focused harder on survival. How could he get away from the Imperial City altogether? He felt as if there was no more important task than that. But the instant he thought about running, Guo Sen was in sight and he lost all nerve. He knew that he would never escape the necromancer’s companion if he tried to run from him. The man seemed never to tire and whatever his connection to Lei Kui, Ma Shou held no faith that Guo Sen would break or dishonor it, for any reason.

  Yet again, Ma Shou was made to realize that he wasn’t going anywhere.

  WEEKS OF STAY in Xu Liang’s home felt oddly more strained since his empress had accepted them than it had when Shirisae and the others first arrived. None of them were foolish enough to believe that her acceptance guaranteed acceptance from others, but in some ways they all did believe it would alleviate the tension that had built—even if primarily amongst themselves—while they had been waiting to discover the full of their purpose in Sheng Fan. For the most part that was true.

  Alere and Tristus had been better taken into the affairs of the military—helping to clear debris in the west court and even being allowed to observe training on at least a few occasions. Shirisae’s participation had still been confined to Xu Liang’s residence—her further tra
ining to help her become accustomed with Fanese military style had been offered through Xu Liang’s guards exclusively. She required no explanation as to why and had determined to maintain patience in the face of a culture that seemed a curious mockery of her own. The Fanese people revered and followed one woman, whom they believed to be the descendant of gods, but all other females led segregated lives that were virtually absent of the responsibilities females shared with males at Vilciel. Shirisae understood that the majority of human cultures—and even some elven—existed in such a fashion. She had not given any of her fellow bearers the opportunity to apply their social habits to her gender, and as far as she was aware, none of them had tried. For that reason, she would not force her own social standards upon the people of Sheng Fan. She would ease them to acceptance, and she would do it for the sake of her allies and their purpose, a purpose which was supported by the Phoenix, and by her mother.

  In spite of unequal regard where combat was concerned, they all attended study sessions with Huang Shang-san, and they all spent time with one another, as a family living beneath the same roof. Xu Liang was often away from his home, or at work in his office, which made time in his presence rarer than it had been during their travels outside of Sheng Fan, but his health seemed to be steadily improving. He would have periods of exhaustion, particularly after periods of excessive strain, but Shirisae, at least—Taya remained dubious—didn’t believe that he was any longer in a state of slowly dying. The Phoenix had been resurrected through him. She believed he would only grow stronger now.

  Shirisae believed also that some of her tension could be attributed to a new wait…the wait for Xu Liang to leave for a battle he was to resolve under order of his empress. That event would be followed by a wait for him to return. Anticipation of both had her at an unfamiliar edge of her being.

  She currently watched him going over scrolls at his desk. He was not sitting to study them—perhaps because he was preparing to actually leave, deciding which of them he would take with him. His secretary—a man perhaps a decade his senior with shoulder-length hair and face traced with a neat beard—came and went. He was currently gone, leaving only Xu Liang in view.