by T. A. Miles
A thudding like hooves soon joined the rustle in the grass that was Zhen Yu’s movement. Zhen Yu’s thread tensed. He’d seen something before Lei Kui. Lei Kui hurried to locate a marking detail that might help him find the location later.
Zhen Yu’s thread pulled taut and began to quaver with a rush of movement that would not allow Lei Kui to focus. The sensation of at least one horse rushed by very close to Zhen Yu. An attempt to strike him was deflected with the sword Zhen Yu still carried. Another followed. The attacker was not only deflected, but dragged from his mount. Yells of protest shook the thread. The finer strands that formed it began to snap and unravel with the disquiet of sound and movement.
Lei Kui tightened his hold on the thread, wrapping it around his hand, as if he could assist in steadying it. But the enchantment’s connection was not so neat as that. Zhen Yu was falling away spiritually, to an internal frenzy of desperation and violence. The former pirate viciously laid into the man he’d taken from his horse. Lei Kui caught glimpses of the man’s horrified expression while he was murdered by what to him must have appeared as a rogue of unnatural strength.
More men were coming. Lei Kui could hear them and their mounts. Zhen Yu had found the troops who had gone south from the Imperial City. That was the only explanation. And now he would be destroyed by them.
Lei Kui relaxed his hand, decided on letting go. And then there came a great burst of silver and green light. It seared across the darkness, illuminating the area as if lightning had struck directly beside Zhen Yu. A tremor of force shook the thread and a web of energy snaked down the line. Lei Kui caught a fleeting glimpse of a black horse and a rider with fire-colored plumage or a cape, a gleaming halberd in hand.
And then the thread snapped. Zhen Yu’s end disappeared into the mist, toward events Lei Kui could no longer see. In his hand, the remaining end of the thread shriveled and turned to dust.
He felt a brief surge of something familiar…something lost. It was the glowing blade of the rider which had brought the sensation to him. And now it was lost. He decided in the next moment, irrationally, that finding Han Quan was lost as well, along with all of the other components of their revenge. He gripped Ma Shou’s thread in a sudden fist and jerked it toward himself in frustration that sent ripples of colorless energy radiating through the darkness of his subconscious.
MA SHOU LURCHED awake, rolling forward and clutching the ground in front of him in a panic. He felt as if he had been nearly pulled off the pallet he’d been sleeping upon. While he couldn’t remember precisely what he’d been dreaming about—so sure was his exhaustion—he felt now as if he had potentially been dragged into the Infernal Regions and as if the threat were still pending. He nearly began to yell, but the sensation of peril relaxed and gradually, so did he.
He wondered how long he might have been asleep, realizing quickly that it could not have been long; he’d arrived at Xu Liang’s camp well after nightfall and it was still dark. The lamps of the camp remained lit, their light swelling against the fabric of his enclosure. It reminded him helplessly of his time in the company of the necromancer, but that this tent held nothing aside from himself and the bedding. It had been cleared for their unexpected prisoner. Soldiers patrolled the ground surrounding it, but unbeknownst to them, they were scarcely required. Their prisoner had no intention of attempting escape.
He would have preferred to have not been left in darkness, though. It was all he could do to not trace figures in the shadows…the dismally occupied form of a meditating Lei Kui or perhaps the skulking notion of his feminine counterpart.
“Ma Shou.”
His heart leaped at the sound and he turned swiftly to look upon the speaker.
Xu Liang entered the tent, and simply stood for a moment observing Ma Shou.
“Not quite the portrait of confidence you first encountered,” Ma Shou murmured, simply for the sake of conversation that was not interwoven with the patient menace of the necromancer. The meeting he referenced to the Imperial Tactician seemed quite a long time past. His ego had been bruised then, along with his body after the skirmish that had occurred at Ti Lao. At that time, such set back had only driven him to improve and succeed. He could scarcely focus on a goal anymore, other than survival…and he was now very much afraid of failure.
In response to his comment, Xu Liang said, “No. You seem humbler now. I’m glad.”
Ma Shou felt his mouth twitch to form some manner of reply, but nothing came, except to bow his head. He struggled to look at the Imperial Tactician, very aware that he was at his mercy.
“A patrol has gone out to look for Zhen Yu,” Xu Liang said next. “You must tell me now, everything you know of the necromancer, of Han Quan, and of the dragon.”
Ma Shou stole another glance at the man who he understood now was, in every way, his superior. He had squandered his days recklessly in pursuit of quick ends. He had defined himself by arrogance and impatience. He would answer Xu Liang, because he had no desire to die in complete indignity. He knew nothing of dragons, except for the fleeting glimpse of one at sea months ago and the hearsay of the one that had assaulted the Imperial City. Ma Shou let that be known at once and then he proceeded to tell Xu Liang everything that came to mind regarding his dealings with Han Quan and his time spent in the presence of Lei Kui and Guo Sen, and how the topics related to one another.
Han Quan had already revealed himself a traitor to the Empire, Ma Shou discovered. Knowing that made it all the easier to further condemn the geomancer, even if it meant further condemning himself. Han Quan had proved that he knew no loyalties and that he cared for no one, not even politically. He was the worst opportunist—a wolf tracking a lame deer, waiting for the perfect moment to take the doomed creature from behind. He’d attempted to draw others to him who he believed suffered the same lack of scruples, who he would turn on the moment they became a challenge or threat to his ambition. Ma Shou had been a fool to trust him. He had been a fool to not have endeavored to ally instead with Xu Liang, a man of true honor, who served the Empire ahead of himself.
Ma Shou had never felt inspired by the Song, but perhaps he could be inspired by Xu Liang. The longer he talked with the Imperial Tactician allowing him to do so, the more he felt that he was indeed inspired, and when he had finished he asked again for his forgiveness and promised to him as well that he would serve loyally, if allowed. He would help Xu Liang to find and put down Han Quan.
Of course, Xu Liang gave him no answer in that moment, but he also did not order Ma Shou’s execution.
EMERGING FROM Ma Shou’s presence into the lightening air of very early morning, Xu Liang drew a breath and held it within himself deeply before releasing it at an even, careful rate. He felt exhausted by the journey to the school, all that he had discovered throughout it, and now all that he had discovered since returning to camp. Ma Shou had confessed to being hired by Han Quan, for the purpose of assassination and the theft of the Celestial Swords. His primary purpose was to intercept Xu Liang before he could leave Sheng Fan, to assassinate him if necessary in order to prevent him setting out on his quest to the outer realms. His accomplice, Xiadao Lu, had been hired on for glory…the glory he thought he would attain through Xu Liang’s defeat. Zhen Yu had agreed to work with them so that he could gain both wealth and fame. Neither the Swords nor their bearers were to arrive within the borders of Sheng Fan.
But that had failed, and Han Quan’s enchantment on Ma Shou had nearly ensured his silence. Han Quan had proven to be among the more pronounced betrayers Xu Liang had known in his time as an official of the court. The exact arrival and purpose of the dragon remained a mystery, as it was beyond Ma Shou’s sphere of knowledge. The pyromancer had been promised a candidacy among the Seven Mystics, which marked him foolish, since the masters would not have invited one who seemed to lack sincerity and who was more interested in what he could achieve over what he might teach to others. It seemed that the masters had already made such an error in Han Quan. It was unlikely
that they would repeat that error.
Ma Shou admitted that he was less concerned with accomplishment as a mystic since encountering Lei Kui, whose aim—by all evidence—was to murder each of the Seven Mystics. In that, it seemed possible that Lei Kui might have been responsible for the absence of both Xu Liang’s mentor and Ma Shou’s. Hopefully now, Ma Shou could feel the shame of reaching so hastily for the position, knowing that he had potentially reached over his murdered teacher.
Xu Liang suspected that the pyromancer did feel shame now, and in no small measure. It was a start to his reformation as a man, and as a son of Sheng Fan. Xu Liang could not say as yet how interested he was in that, either personally or on the Empress’ behalf. For the moment, he was quite tired and had much to consider.
It was then that a soldier came to him in a rush. “My lord,” the man spoke in tones of urgency. “A man was found near camp.”
Xu Liang found the energy to remain focused, at least for one more task before sunrise. “Take me to him,” he instructed the soldier.
The man set off at once. “He’s this way. He was brought down by your wife.”
The word drew the merest hesitation to Xu Liang’s step. Whether the soldier intended to say such a thing so blatantly or not, he was clearly too excited by the night’s movements to be aware. Evidently, allowing the men to find their own theories, had led them to one rather quickly and specifically, one which some of them had settled on with unanticipated comfort. Though it did not offend Xu Liang—though it contributed to ruminations he’d scarcely begun, regarding how and when to alleviate the rumors by rendering them fact—it was far too premature. He said with honesty that everyone deserved, “The Lady Shirisae is not yet my wife.”
The soldier apologized while they walked, though did not seem overly apologetic in light of the information he had been given, which was no more and no less than the fact that Xu Liang intended to take a wife. In the moment, it may have brought the soldier more pride than Xu Liang could accept, while he considered how delicately the matter would have to be delivered to his empress, and how he hoped to do so before word of his interests could be delivered to her by the mouths of others.
ZHEN YU HAD indeed been brought down by Shirisae. Xu Liang had taken the time getting to the site of the altercation considering how to undo what a necromancer had done. He did not believe that attempting to take on such an enchantment would be wise. Che Wen Tai had struggled against Lei Kui when the necromancer barely qualified an adult. Yes, the spirit of Zhai Liao was involved, but if any mystic was qualified to contend with such a being—or one possessed by such a being—it was the Supreme Astralmancer. The fact that Lei Kui had taken nearly fifty years to announce his presence since escaping the Death Pavilion implied that Che Wen Tai had been in some ways successful, and though Lei Kui might have been bent on exacting revenge against the masters, he did not feel prepared for another meeting between himself and Che Wen Tai.
Xu Liang also suspected that the elder was aware of Lei Kui’s reemergence. Xu Liang was appreciative of the information he had been given regarding the necromancer, though he was uncertain yet how he could properly utilize it.
“He’s not tried to move since Firestorm claimed him,” Shirisae said when she detected Xu Liang’s approach.
Xu Liang guided Blue Crane alongside Kirlothden, looking down at the splayed form of the pirate for the second time. The man’s body was grayed and ravaged by injury that did not all appear to be recent or delivered by the Storm Blade. The oozing burns upon exposed skin and beneath charred clothing indicated the damage done to him by the Blade. The deep bruises and wounds that appeared to have been festering were curious. It may have been that raising a man by use of necromancy in no way healed him.
“His body will have to be burned,” Xu Liang decided. He then gave order for one of the patrol’s soldiers to do so.
“When he was struck, I saw the vague impression of someone else,” Shirisae said while the order was carried out. She looked at Xu Liang, perhaps because it was no longer required of her to watch Zhen Yu. “It was fleeting and when I rode out further from the body, I saw no one.”
Xu Liang considered the information, then said, “I learned from Ma Shou that the mystic behind Zhen Yu’s state has been plotting revenge against the masters of the school.”
“I am not surprised,” Shirisae replied.
Xu Liang nodded. “Considering what we’ve come to know about Han Quan, I believe I know how Lei Kui may have left the school, and I believe that if Han Quan’s level of loyalty was as lacking as it is now, that the Supreme Geomancer might be his present goal.”
“He believed he would be led to Han Quan,” Shirisae surmised.
“I think so,” Xu Liang answered.
“Do you believe that the necromancer was in some way responsible for the transfer of the ghost of Cai Shi-meng?”
Xu Liang hadn’t organized the theory so precisely in his mind yet, but it seemed quite plausible. To Shirisae, he said simply, “It’s possible.”
The Southern Hills
A LETTER FROM the Imperial City arrived the following morning, detailing the discoveries beneath the city and the measures taken. Xu Liang composed a reply while they waited for the remaining forces to arrive. The wait was not long, though overall it was later than Xu Liang anticipated. The plains on the eastern side of Ding Zhu had seen more flooding than was anticipated, which slowed the movement of the troops considerably. Perhaps, not as considerably as General Zhou Biao cared to cite; the units had still made better time than they might have with less leadership. Xu Liang gave the general his thanks when he arrived and issued his appreciation to all of the troop leaders present after they’d reorganized and were once again headed south.
Ma Shou remained a prisoner and was put upon a horse, unarmed, and escorted by six veterans as well as a lower tier tactician, who was also a metalmancer. Xu Liang felt assured that there would be no successful escape attempts from the pyromancer. There was likely further insight to be gained from him, regarding both Han Quan and the necromancer. He had spoken of the female ghost Xu Liang had witnessed in his spiritual travels at the school and along the route to it. Who she was remained a mystery to both of them, but of the two of them Ma Shou was considerably more disturbed by having seen her. A sense of dread and paranoia also seemed to linger around Ma Shou. It was possible that Lei Kui yet had some hold over him, possibly by enchantment. Association with unethical mystics exposed one to the possibility of a spell being planted onto an unsuspecting victim. In the instance of Ma Shou, it had potentially happened more than once. Taking a spell off of oneself was virtually impossible for the average mystic and required several days’ effort of even the most skilled. It would be far easier for another mystic to perform the task, but again, Xu Liang was unfamiliar with the results of tampering with a necromancer’s enchantments.
Easier still, would be to involve Aerkiren. Firestorm seemed to have ended Zhen Yu’s affliction, though it may well have done so through severe trauma, rather than any negating of magic. Death did happen to be a means by which to eliminate undesired spells, but it was undoubtedly not the method Ma Shou would have preferred.
Xu Liang spent the days of travel toward Fa Leng observing Ma Shou when he was able and otherwise contemplating what he had learned with his focus being Han Quan, above Lei Kui. Even if the necromancer was on the road to Fa Leng in hopes of being led to the geomancer, he could not be the priority unless he presented himself an immediate danger. For now, that role was taken, not even by Han Quan, but by the men Ha Ming Jin had organized and kept rallied against the Empire. Xu Liang intended to enact a swift, finishing blow to Xun’s forces. The province had been taxed enough and needed time to recover. If an atmosphere of peace could be reestablished, it might reduce the possibility of rebellion spreading in the future.
CHU YAO CASTLE was nowhere to be seen, though they had passed through several villages and what appeared to be farming settlements during their journey
with the troops. When Shirisae inquired of the location, Xu Liang explained that they had kept deliberately east of it, that they might join Tian Qi’s forces sooner. It was in the moments he was explaining that when Shirisae truly began to feel the anticipation of a battle pending. She suspected they were within hours of arriving at their destination. In all truth, she had no idea what to expect. Fanese warfare was nothing like any of the military experience she had. Among her people, it had amounted to much smaller skirmishes with fewer warriors. At times, she and her brother were able to roust suspicious groups of individuals alone. Their battles with the keirveshen had been similar experiences to those Shirisae had experienced with her current allies since leaving Vilciel. Her people consistently elected not to become involved in the warring to the south of Yvaria. So, this would be the first she witnessed of war on the scale of nations, in a country where each of its key districts were the size of a nation.
Xu Liang demonstrated no indication of anxiety over what lay ahead, only the calm air of knowing what was familiar to him. Shirisae imagined that this must have been what it was like during the ancient days of elves when their empire was breaking apart and simultaneously under attack from beyond its borders. The Great Division was a legendary fracture of lands and people. The extended striations continued to strain the groups involved, even long after their estrangement from one another. She wondered at the legacy this would leave for future generations of the Fanese people.
Over the next hour, the consideration fell to the back of her mind while she began to notice formations of troops moving around and ahead of Xu Liang’s. She came to understand without explanation that they were very near to battle, and Xu Liang’s unit was being placed in a defensive position. He would oversee from a distance, enabling him to enforce his strategy by way of command, not necessarily through direct action.
