by T. A. Miles
By the time she and Xu Liang had reached the shelter where they had previously caught sight of the cloud dragon, a dismal tone had begun to color her thoughts. She drew it inside on a long breath while joining the mystic at the pavilion railing, and reminded herself that he had many challenges on his mind. For now, the Phoenix and all that it entailed may have been the least of them.
“Great events are occurring,” he observed while his dark eyes looked over the cloudscape spanning to the horizon, which was once more colored by darkness and moonlight. “Not only in Sheng Fan, but all across Dryth.”
“Yes,” Shirisae agreed. “Who can say where it all started, or where it will end, apart from the gods?”
“There can be no end,” Xu Liang replied. “The seasons tell us that time is also a sphere, and therefore infinite. But seasons can grow dark, and we may be entering such a season now.”
“But it cannot last,” Shirisae reasoned. “No dark time has ever lasted.”
Xu Liang said nothing.
Looking over at him, Shirisae could see that he was thinking, forming some important revelation from the grimmest notions. She was coming to believe that men of such intellect as his at times required bleak passages to let their minds travel through, that they might better see the light.
Whether or not that was true, and whether or not Xu Liang’s pondering had come to any better illumination on any of the topics at hand, he shared no further thoughts of it with her.
“Would you like to rest here longer?” he eventually asked her.
A part of her would have rathered, yes, though not for any reason beyond being alone with him for longer. Knowing, he was eager to resume the march to the border of Xun, she said, “I can continue walking.”
Xu Liang accepted that with a nod, which made her wonder if he was beginning to feel the strain of the journey, part of it brought on by his spiritual exertion. He said, “We may arrive back at camp before the remainder of the troops.”
“Better to rest there,” Shirisae replied.
“Yes,” he answered, and they resumed their trek down the mountain.
AT THE BASE of Ding Fa, they were greeted by Cai Zheng Rui and Shi Dian, who appeared to have been stationed at the entry of the path to the school for at least several hours, if not the entire day. Xu Liang appreciated the water the guards brought to both him and Shirisae, which they had run out of before arriving at the bottom, and he did also appreciate the moment’s respite beside the fire they had made for themselves. He did not feel weary, necessarily, but there was much to collect mentally. Even with the hours of traversing the descent, he could not properly place everything that he had learned. He had spent some of the steps back down the mountain deliberately thinking of none of it, so that he might have a clearer base from which to begin again. As he pulled the various threads of knowledge and experience back toward himself, he did find that he was able to form the beginnings of a much less chaotic picture.
Che Wen Tai could not have been mistaken about Han Quan. As an astralmancer of his many years and talent, he understood what he saw and felt when he looked upon his fellow mystic, better than anyone not of the Heavens. That he had not confronted or tried to exorcise the ghost was the thought that continued to catch Xu Liang, but it may have been that the elder was simply too advanced in his years now. His age was well over one hundred, and he had evidently spent much of his strength in recent years struggling against the Spirit of Death itself.
If the spirit had begun to take physical form through Lei Kui, and Lei Kui was not physically present at the pavilion that was meant to be his prison, then Che Wen Tai must have been working to keep the two somewhat separated by maintaining the enchantments that kept the Death Pavilion isolated. But what had become of Lei Kui? How could he have escaped? It seemed beyond unlikely that he might have climbed barehanded down the sheer sides of the earthen pillar.
“My lord,” Cai Zheng Rui said, interrupting his thoughts. “General Hei Xue sent us to find you if you had not returned by morning. There has been a disruption in camp.”
Xu Liang looked at his guard, though his mind painted images of dragon assault that prevented him actually focusing on the man. “What is the nature of the disruption?”
“A prisoner,” Cai Zheng Rui answered, and based upon the subtle transformation of his expression, seemed to notice the relief that his words brought. Rather than ask what his master might have anticipated other than a prisoner, he said, “It’s one of the men from the assault at Jung Ho Bridge.”
“Ma Shou,” Xu Liang somehow knew. The utterance of the name drew Shirisae’s attention specifically, and he held out a hand to ensure that he would attend to her warranted curiosity momentarily. To his bodyguard, he said, “We will return at once.”
Cai Zheng Rui bowed quickly and then set about clearing the small camp he and his fellow guard had made.
In the process, Xu Liang turned toward Shirisae. “It would seem that the pyromancer Ma Shou survived the river after all.”
THE PAST REPEATED itself and, Ma Shou suspected, it would continue to do so. In the recent sense of what had already played out, he found himself once again kneeling with the edges of blades hovering near while he awaited sentence from the Imperial Tactician. This time he found himself greatly relieved. He would accept execution gladly, if it meant escape from the necromancer and his associates. As it was, he found himself paranoid that not even death could come quickly enough to free him from the reach of Lei Kui. Every footfall outside of the tent the soldiers kept him within might have been Zhen Yu stalking after him yet, as he had done in the mountains. Ma Shou was without doubt that he had seen the former pirate in the shadows around him, moving after him tirelessly. He was beginning to feel that the necromancer had set his onetime accomplice after him to exact his own notion of an execution, once Ma Shou had led him to what he actually wanted.
Revenge was what Lei Kui actually wanted. Savage revenge. And Ma Shou had led him to Xu Liang. It was a gamble. Xu Liang might decide to put him down for the sake of the Empire—Ma Shou understood how that might seem the wisest option. Or the Imperial Tactician might decide upon mercy, and set him loose as an outcast, whereupon Ma Shou had no doubts that the necromancer would take action immediately. Ma Shou would beg for death by Xu Liang’s hand first; he was decided.
Shadows moved over the fabric of the tent. A man outside became specifically attentive. One of the guards standing watch over Ma Shou looked over his shoulder, and then both lowered their weapons and took a step back as the entry folds were held open and Xu Liang entered.
Ma Shou heard himself gasp audibly as the breath he’d been holding in his anxiety was purged by the purest sense of relief he had ever felt. He was not prepared for the humility that came over him, as he verged upon begging for humaneness from a man he had tried to thwart and kill over his own selfish ambitions. He lowered his head at once, in a display of surrender.
“You impress me, Ma Shou,” the Imperial Tactician said.
The sound of a sane voice was refreshing enough that Ma Shou scarcely heard the praise. He decided that he could not wait and began to speak frantically. “Forgive me. I followed you here to beg for mercy and protection.”
“Protection?” Xu Liang inquired.
“Yes,” Ma Shou answered, keeping his gaze on the ground and the hem of Xu Liang’s robes. “I am being pursued relentlessly and viciously…”
While Ma Shou tried to put together the best words to describe what was happening, Xu Liang asked, “By whom?”
“Zheng Yu,” he blurted, still attempting to collect a coherent explanation.
“The pirate Zheng Yu died at Jung Ho,” the Imperial Tactician informed him.
“Yes,” Ma Shou replied, and felt that he was on the verge of babbling inanely. He took a few rushed breaths, curling in on himself for a moment as he felt the rise of panic. Lei Kui was going to find him. And that demon…
“Ma Shou,” Xu Liang beckoned sternly.
Ma Shou looked up at him at once, into a face of beauty that was unspoiled and certainly not demonic. It was the face not only of the Imperial Tactician, but of a fellow mystic. They were peers in that, and the necromancer concerned all mystics.
“Since Jung Ho, I have been in the company of the necromancer Lei Kui,” Ma Shou continued. “He walks with a man by the name Guo Sen, whose face is damaged by past injury and who presents himself as an outcast—possibly a criminal. They pulled me from the Tunghui and I was witness to Lei Kui raising Zhen Yu from death. He’s been following me since I fled from their presence at the Imperial City.”
There was a silence, perhaps of disbelief from Xu Liang.
Ma Shou shook his head, lowering his gaze once more. He could only wonder if the aeromancer believed him.
And then, Xu Liang said, “I know of Lei Kui.”
XU LIANG WAS perplexed at Ma Shou’s tears at first, but considered that the man might have been exposed to many long days of the imagery he had witnessed at the Death Pavilion. While Ma Shou curled over himself and wept with what appeared to be sincere release—more than likely from terror—Xu Liang stepped away, instructing the guards to continue watching him.
“Men are to stay here at all times,” he said. When the present guards gave their obedient replies, he moved off to join General Hei Xue, who had been waiting nearby.
Also close by was Shirisae. She came over to join them and was not interfered with beyond a glance from the general.
“I think it would be wise to organize a patrol of the surrounding area, especially the exit from the mountain road,” Xu Liang said to Hei Xue.
The man nodded. “He was rambling about being followed.”
“I believe that he is correct,” Xu Liang replied. “The individual following might be under an enchantment, and may be extremely dangerous. He will be in the garb of a rogue sailor. If seen, he is to be put down at once. His body should be pinned by weapon afterward.”
“Pinned?” Hei Xue repeated with understandable confusion.
“I’m presuming that the nature of the enchantment on him will compel him to continue to move, despite any amount of injury he might have taken.”
Hei Xue made a tight face of disapproval at the notion.
“It’s imperative that he be incapacitated, general,” Xu Liang reiterated. “Please, have me informed at once if he should be discovered.”
“Yes, my lord,” Hei Xue conceded.
Xu Liang added, “We must also be alert for a second rogue—this one badly scarred. Though I know little about him, he should be handled similarly. If another mystic is seen within the vicinity of this camp, he is not to be approached, but I should be notified at once.”
“How will we identify this mystic?”
“He will appear quite graceful,” Xu Liang replied. “In scholar’s robes.”
Hei Xue bowed in response, then departed to delegate the assignment to the appropriate men.
There was another appropriate party to be added to the effort, who was not among men. Turning to Shirisae, Xu Liang said, “Zhen Yu survived the battle at Jung Ho Bridge, though not by any conventional means. Ma Shou believes that he was raised by a necromancer.”
Shirisae nodded, seeming to predict the point he was coming to. “Firestorm can aid your men against the undead.”
“Please, join them with Cai Zheng Rui.”
Once more, Shirisae nodded. She started away, pausing to wait for Cai Zheng Rui, who joined her after receiving his orders from Xu Liang in Fanese, which included informing Hei Xue’s men that Shirisae had been sent by him and not to question her presence.
CAI ZHENG RUI moved quickly with Shirisae to his master’s tent, so that they could both retrieve their mounts. From there, they walked the animals to the north end of the camp, where General Hei Xue’s patrol was gathering. He was accustomed to travel alongside the outsiders, and felt that he had lost his ability to be unnerved or surprised by their presence or their interactions with his lord. He was not uncomfortable with the rumors that Shirisae could be Lord Xu Liang’s wife either. Cai Zheng Rui, like his fellow guards, supported the idea. They had all witnessed their master dutifully serve for years without regard for the establishment of a personal household. Gai Ping was especially prepared and in support of the possibilities that had arisen with Shirisae’s presence. They all awaited official announcement of the Empress’ blessing upon his marriage.
It was unexpected, however, that the soldiers should accept the notion so readily. More surprising, was the manner in which the men for the patrol took notice of Shirisae’s arrival and made way for her to join them. They even showed her reverence similar to what they might have shown Lord Xu Liang, bowing not simply as if to his wife, but as if…
Cai Zheng Rui was taken from his thoughts by the recall of his duty. “Lord Xu Liang has ordered that Lady Shirisae join the patrol.”
Shirisae looked over at him while he spoke, perhaps in an attempt to decipher some of his words.
The patrol leader said, “Lady Shirisae will bring fortune to the hunt. Let us roust the enemy from the darkness and bring Lord Xu Liang and General Hei Xue an early victory!”
The men readied to leave. When Shirisae glanced toward Cai Zheng Rui once again, he nodded to confirm that all was well for her accompanying them. Secretly, he wondered if it was too well. He would bring the men’s attitude to his senior guard the moment they returned.
SHIRISAE FELT SOME relief that there would be no trouble with her joining the Fanese soldiers. She climbed into Kirlothden’s saddle, then unstrapped Firestorm from its harness. She would not have anticipated having to hunt for Zhen Yu after his death, but she also would not have anticipated Ma Shou’s survival.
She rode with the group back toward the mountain passages, the Storm Blade offering better light than the torches of some of the others. That its glow was so prominent, she took for an advantage. If Zhen Yu had been affected by some darkness, like that which the keirveshen could put onto their victims, then finding him would be all the easier.
LEI KUI SAT in darkness. In his mind, he held the ends of two separate threads. One was green and faded…the color of decay. The other was red and vibrant as fire. The fire thread had gone slowly, but steadily to some distance. It was idle now, except for the shuddering that reverberated down the length of it…the rapid and catching breath that preceded panic. Lei Kui let it be, for now.
The second thread pulled and gave slack at erratic intervals, but did not stop. It also did not communicate feeling. But Zhen Yu was in a state purely of existence. He cared for nothing, desired nothing…aspired to nothing. All of the ambitions of the pirate had shed like old skin. He had paid for an instant of life that amounted to the cumulative life energy of ten men. He had not cared when bargaining that such life had been derived from death. Zhen Yu wanted to be the fiend responsible for the assassination of the Empress’ most beloved servant. The River Master would have become more notorious, perhaps even feared.
Lei Kui had watched the spiritual thread of his enchantment set upon Zhen Yu discolor and begin to unravel in his hand over time. He had followed it to the man’s corpse at the Great Tortoise, and to one of the man’s cohorts as well.
Ma Shou had not required raising when Guo Sen fished him out of the Tunghui, but he had required some more life in order to avoid dying. Lei Kui had given it to him, and later he had given him the endurance to walk further than a normal man. Later still, he had given him the excess to walk faster than a normal man. And so, he had gone…back to the one who had employed him, Lei Kui thought at first, but now he was not so sure. He would investigate later, if he didn’t learn through Zhen Yu.
In his meditative state of dreaming, Lei Kui lifted the end of the diminishing thread, peering down the length of it. His spiritual eye traveled over the fraying fibers, through darkness and mist, beneath moonlight filtered by cloud and over water shaded by cliff. He came to the sound and sensation of legs moving through damp grass. The heavy bla
des brushed over Zhen Yu’s pant legs while he stalked over uneven ground, following what was familiar and what the ghoul Zhen Yu had become believed he could have if he took it into himself. If allowed, he would track Ma Shou to the ends of Sheng Fan. When Ma Shou tired of running, his former ally would devour him, as the man would previously have devoured the flesh of an animal. While Lei Kui’s enchantment lasted, Zhen Yu might strengthen himself that way, though he would continue to decay slowly and would eventually be nothing more than a corpse, one that was not even fit for the vultures.
Lei Kui’s own vulture drifted overhead, a last measure should both threads wither away before he could trace where they had stretched to.
Zhen Yu’s thread became slack in Lei Kui’s grip. He searched the static haze which surrounded his view of his victim, attempting to descry detail from the disrupted darkness. He could see only the surface notion of grass…and a piece of wood standing upright, which might have been a pole. Zhen Yu had stumbled upon a farm or a house…perhaps a camp.
