by T. A. Miles
THE MOUNTAINS OPENED up to less craggy, forested hills. Once again, a camp was established quickly and efficiently, and the wilderness became lit and active as if they had ridden into a small town. Shirisae continued to be impressed with the Fanese military, at least in its organization, especially considering its size.
They had arrived ahead of the group that had branched around the area’s primary mountain. During the hours following the road, Shirisae had never really gained a sense of it. The landscape was too cluttered with itself to discern one specific rise among several, though she suspected that Mount Dhing Zhu was large enough so as to actually be present throughout the landscape. She believed that the road had actually traversed its lower tiers—that the Fingers of the Earth were attached to an arm.
“The crest of Dhing Zhu is quite high,” Xu Liang confirmed when she asked him of it. “It would take some time to climb to such heights, but fortunately, we’ve no business with the Eastern Oracle. The school is much nearer, though it will still require more than a day to travel there and back.”
“I didn’t know we were visiting the Seven Mystics,” Shirisae said while she walked alongside him, to the tent of one of the generals, with whom they would be dining.
“There are concerns I have which must be addressed,” he replied. “It was my hope that the route through the mountains would be swifter, so that I would be able to justify the time the small journey will take.”
Shirisae accepted that with ease. Where she went with Xu Liang mattered very little to her, so long as she was fulfilling her obligations to the Phoenix, to her mother, and to her people. The last two were satisfied, so long as she satisfied the first. Since the Phoenix was rising directly beside her while she walked with the mystic, as it had been since their departure from the Imperial City—as it had been since Xu Liang’s resurrection—she had only to go where he went.
It would have been that simple, if she hadn’t come to care for the concerns Xu Liang had shared with all of them, and in the process drawn her to care for him as well. In spite of the ease she felt with accepting the trek to the school, what she actually meant was that she would go without contradiction, because she remained largely ignorant of the intricacies of the campaign itself and if it wasn’t important, he would not have suggested it. If he began to fret over time lost, she knew that she would not be aloof to it herself. His success mattered to her, because it mattered on a greater scale than Sheng Fan, and because he mattered to her now, personally.
The growth of her sentiments was beginning to alarm her, and she could feel herself grasping for her faith as a shield against an admission that might betray that same faith. It was distressing, more so because she wanted to share her distress with Xu Liang, so that he might help her to rationalize it. But if he could rationalize it as easily as she would want, then she assumed that would mean he felt none of the stress. Of course, if he was disconnected, then she had less reason to be distressed and should work at being less overcome by the sentimentality she would never have assumed she possessed.
Such angst was unacceptable. She looked to Xu Liang directly. “If I were to say that I feel more connected to you lately, that it was entirely owed to the manifestation of the Phoenix and my obligation to my god?”
Xu Liang drew only a momentary pause. And then he said, “I would not say entirely.”
“But you would say essentially,” she determined, feeling an internal sting that angered more than it dissuaded.
“And I would potentially be wrong,” he said, which ignited a less angering and slightly more distressing sensation. The confusion of it eased while Xu Liang added, “We have all suffered and triumphed alongside one another. We have all come to the aid of each other, and we have all been witness to the trials and pains each of us has come against since meeting. It would be beyond unlikely that we would not have formed important bonds by now. I care for each of you, beyond our shared commitment as bearers of the Celestial Swords.”
Shirisae listened to the words shape so easily on his lips. It filled her with optimism and reminded her that her quickness to judge was neither beneficial nor accurate. “I care for you also,” she told him. “Beyond the Swords, and with or without the Phoenix.”
Xu Liang said nothing more, but she believed that she detected some contentment in his expression. It was not to last.
When they joined General Hei Xue—a man of indeterminable age and features that seemed plainer, as Fanese features went—the formalities were pleasant and brief. Food and drink was had, but over it was talk of war. Xu Liang’s focus became unchallengeable. The charts laid out on the low table were handled as if he was working his mystic art, his hands hovering with presence over the rolled edges when they weren’t fluidly drifting to locations of interest. The conversation between him and the general was entirely in Fanese, and it was almost lulling for Shirisae to listen to. It had her only listening to the tone of his voice, and the resonance, which she’d always found tranquil and pleasing. Now she found it steady and precise, commanding, though not aggressive.
Hei Xue listened attentively, contributing actively, though Shirisae detected no argumentativeness. Occasionally, his eyes strayed in Shirisae’s direction, but she refrained from taking notice in any visual sense, understanding that her presence—even if she had been the mystic’s wife—was not customary. Understanding also, that this was evidently an important meeting, she found herself somewhat surprised to be admitted by the general. But again, no one had shown her disdain for her gender yet, only what seemed contemplation and attempts to orientate themselves with the facts as they were.
The fact was that Shirisae was also a bearer of one of the Celestial Blades, and had fought alongside Xu Liang to protect the Imperial City and their empress from the dragon. She had what may have been—at least for now—a more honorary rank and title, but the gesture had been made by their ruler. If Ahjenta had made such a public distinction of an outsider, it would also be respected. Shirisae was glad that their cultures held some similarities to one another, enabling Shirisae to understand her position better, which undoubtedly took some of the stress away from Xu Liang.
Shirisae was not present in Sheng Fan to flaunt her pride at anyone. She had come for reasons that had to do with her home and her people, and ultimately the greater safety of all of Dryth. She would stay, and she would strive to earn the trust and respect of Xu Liang’s people for those same reasons. If all of those previous reasons were to fall away and cease to matter, she would endeavor to stay with him anyway…because she was in love with the mystic.
LEAVING THE ROAD from the Imperial City had been a peculiar lack of concern for Ma Shou during his flight. He recalled it crossing his mind fleetingly when he first left Jianfeng’s attached settlement, but he had not been pursued. With no one behind him, he focused only on traveling as far from Jianfeng as his feet would carry him. And so, he stayed on the road. His feet carried him with little complaint. There was exhaustion, in a general sense, but not the suffering there had been when he’d walked with Lei Kui and Guo Sen from Jung Ho Bridge. He wondered if he had not been terrorized enough before—by now he surely was—and if his legs became diseased and threatened to decay beneath him, if he would continue to move until the decay prevented movement.
He believed that he would. Any optimism he’d felt regarding Lei Kui and his bodyguard had fled. Lei Kui’s interests were a deadly, morbid focus that threatened ruin. Association with him was a curse. It may have been too late to lift, but Ma Shou decided that he would rather die trying to escape it.
Ma Shou’s escape was better acquainted with him than he would have thought during his many hours in the tent that had been a prison of the most peculiar making. Escape had lingered, like an uncertain ally, trying to convince him to trust but at the same time seeming equally unconvinced of success. The tent invited and precluded action simultaneously—inhabited for long, gloomy intervals by Lei Kui, hawked by Guo Sen, yet never locked and never with a solid part
ition. It had been a prison formed of terror; terror of what was perceived but never stated and never known. Without it ever being spoken to him, Ma Shou knew that Lei Kui had gone to the Imperial City to seed the earth with the curse of his own being, that he may harvest death. And with him, the presence of the woman…the vengeful one…the demon who looked murder upon a soul from the depths of her murky lair among the hells. It was she who may have terrified Ma Shou the most.
His thoughts had him reconsidering the night that settled around him, particularly since he’d entered the mountains. It occurred to him that no man should have been able to arrive at the mountains so quickly and without rest, but he could not be stopped. Moreover, he felt as if he required no rest. His greatest need at the moment was for food. He’d eaten little in the presence of his strange captors and nothing since leaving their hold. If he could catch something, he could certainly heat it, but he had nothing on him for skinning or carving. On top of that, he had no desire to stop moving, not even to eat. His destination was set in his mind, and that destination was on the march.
“IF YOU DO NOT return within two days, men will be sent to retrieve you,” Hei Xue said.
Xu Liang confirmed the plan that had been decided upon with a nod. “The remainder of the troops should have joined us by then. Please, ensure with Zhou Biao’s help that the camp is taken down and the men prepared to resume the march.”
“They will be ready,” Hei Xue promised.
Xu Liang thanked him and rose from the general’s table, gesturing for Shirisae to do so as well.
Hei Xue watched the elf stand, then looked to Xu Liang with evident questions behind his eyes. They were questions that would not be answered tonight.
Xu Liang bade the general a good night and ushered Shirisae from the tent. They would return to his own tent and reclaim the weapons they had left there, along with some supplies for their journey back into the mountains. He intended to bring none of his guards, and the trek would not be conducive to horses. The paths were narrow and at times quite steep. Xu Liang had taken some of the quiet periods of his travel alongside Shirisae to meditate and strengthen himself—at least internally—for the climb to the school. He had witnessed Shirisae’s endurance and held no doubts about her ability to walk through part of the night. By doing so, they would arrive at the school early the following morning, which would afford them some hours of conversation and rest with the masters before the return journey. He intended to be at the front of the troops again well within the two days allotted.
As he and Shirisae arrived back at his tent, Gai Ping helpfully had their weapons and small packs ready. His fellows each volunteered to accompany, but Xu Liang refused. “I anticipate no hazard along the path to the school,” he said to them. “Please, stay here and assist your elder with the horses and preparations for the continued journey south. I am relying upon each of you.”
The bodyguards accepted his request obediently. Shirisae was given the Storm Blade by Cai Zheng Rui while Shi Dian brought the Moon Blade to Xu Liang. They departed with few formalities.
The walk through the camp happened quietly, which surprised Xu Liang, considering how conversational Shirisae had been for the majority of their journey from the Imperial City. In fact, she had been quite talkative since their departure from the western realms. It was true that he had attributed much of her curiosity to her concerns regarding her god and precisely what had transpired with the resurrection of an outsider. The remainder of her interest he had assumed was to do with her concern for Tristus, whose heart may yet have been struggling to contend with rejection. Rejection was harsher than Xu Liang intended, but he had never been adept in such matters. And now he worried for Alere, who clearly was in pursuit of the knight’s heart…a heart made less receptive by his persistent placement of hope where none lay.
It seemed that their group had made something of an entanglement of the strands that connected their hearts. Under the circumstances, perhaps it was inevitable.
When they arrived at the edge of camp, Xu Liang stopped beside a large rock marking the entrance back into the cliffs to light their lantern. There would be some lights along the path, but not the entire way. The adjoining passages snaking among the cliffs were in the least repair where the planks were concerned. Xu Liang noticed that they had gone over several sections that were virtually without evidence of the road. They were also lined with sediment and driftwood that suggested there had been recent flooding.
With the lantern lit, they entered the rock formations of Chi Hao by way of a wide and suffering stair that had at one time marked the south end of the road. Its presence gave the entry the look of a portal, one similar to the natural gate at Si Shiren. That particular gate was said to lead to the heavens, and that it had been erected there to redirect those who had strayed, in order to prevent them wandering into the Infernal Regions. In relation, the Southern Oracle was often sought by those who were in doubt over which path to take and was associated with youth, renewal, and spiritual balance.
The Eastern Oracle, on the other hand, informed of change, whether bleak or glorious, and was visited during the start of a new year. The Oracle at Ding Zhu was believed to observe the balance of life in Sheng Fan through wisdom acquired over an unnaturally long existence. The Northern Oracle and Western Oracle presided over death and honor, and love and accomplishment, respectively. Song Bao’s tomb was located in the west parts of Ji, in recognition of his long and charismatic rule.
The oracles had convened then, in recognition of the passing of a beloved emperor. The event was hardly witnessed, spoken of by local residents in the Cheong Xi Province first and later spread throughout the Empire.
While these thoughts came to Xu Liang, he decided to pass them to Shirisae. She listened with interest while they walked, which was a shared trait Xu Liang would admit that he appreciated about all of his allies from the west. More than tolerant of his culture, they were curious and eager to learn. It made him feel that there was a destiny behind the events that had brought them together, as if the gods had mapped the route from one bearer to the next over the eras, intending that the Swords would ultimately settle among their current bearers.
“While at Vorhaven’s manor in the Deepwood,” Shirisae said, “an illusion I partook of was the appearance of several individuals whom I would have labeled Fanese, by their look—which was based upon my association with you and your men. What played out could have been a meeting of the figures you spoke of on our journey from the west.”
Xu Liang nodded permissibly. “I would still allocate the vision to the possibility of Vorhaven having borrowed impressions from the minds of all who entered his house.”
Shirisae agreed with a nod of her own. “Yes, and you were newly at the front of our minds. You also speak frequently of your country’s myths and legends, in ways that are not easy to forget. I admire your pride.”
“Remembrance of what was is a form of respect, but also a means by which to chart what might be.”
“I agree,” Shirisae replied. “My people have prophets. Ahjenta is considered a prophet in her own right, though strictly through the guidance she receives from the Phoenix during its waning phase.”
“What forces guide the prophets who are not affiliated with the Phoenix?” Xu Liang asked her.
“Elves have many gods as well,” she told him, perhaps innocent of the fact that Alere had introduced Xu Liang to more than one concept of elven deities. “For us, the Phoenix is paramount. We regard the interest of other gods as a belated interest, but we will still heed the prophecies that come from sources other than Ahjenta. Their absence during our dilemma does not negate their existence.”
“I see,” Xu Liang said, contemplating the information.
A period of silence settled afterward while Xu Liang gave his attention to locating the path to the school. The gate sat between rock faces, over a narrow gap that led away from the road and onto the mountain which housed the Seven Mystics. It was a long, varyi
ng course which gained height and which would take many hours simply for the difficulties it offered.
The ground sloped slightly upward at the point where the gate lay tucked partially behind climbing bramble and the overgrown limbs of the mountain’s reaching trees. Xu Liang guided Shirisae beneath the growth and the crossbeam of the gate, onto the first of several steps leading upward through closely neighboring rock.
“And now I see why we left Kirlothden and Blue Crane behind,” Shirisae commented.
“The path will only grow more strenuous,” Xu Liang informed her.
And it was then, that Shirisae looked back at him. With her brow lifted she said, “And you’re fully prepared to take it.”
Presuming that she alluded to their prior conversation about his weakness, he said, “One must do what one must do. I’ve prepared myself through meditation, so that my spiritual focus may surpass my physical stamina.”
The elf only continued to look at him, drawing to a pause on the stairs for a moment so that she might do so for an extended moment. When she resumed the climb, she said, “The Phoenix gives you strength.”
The Phoenix brought many things to him. Strength was the last that Xu Liang noticed. He said, “So you continue to tell me.”
THEY TRAVELED for some time, along walkways that were mere extensions of the cliff face they were ascending gradually. The path was railed in some places by lattice formed of wrought boughs of wood from the area while in others a traditional guard had been fashioned. The railing stood high enough and firm enough that it was no special risk to follow the trail by darkness. Xu Liang intended to stop them well before they reached the more treacherous parts. They had simple bedrolls with them, food that could be portioned into two or three small meals, and water taken from the region’s springs. Xu Liang carried it often, as it was among the clearest water in all of Sheng Fan and said to provide mental and spiritual clarity to those who drank of it considerately. Xu Liang’s consideration for the purity and sacredness of the water tended to happen through meditation before or after drinking it. The ritual had carried him through much of his recent journey in the outer realms.
