by T. A. Miles
Within less than an hour, the first report came by scout of having found an area of conflict and some of Tian Qi’s troops. Xu Liang and his two top generals convened shortly thereafter, coming to a halt on a high range above a clutter of hills and trees to discuss which units should go in which direction, and to what purpose. Shirisae was only able to glean the gist of it—by sheer force of will, she was inclined to believe—while she paid close attention to key words and intonation, comparing it to the actions that appeared to follow.
Soldiers and officers departed on various commands, and soon afterward the establishment of a base camp was underway. Shirisae understood clearly that this was the battle, officially, and that the duration of their stay would be lengthy. Not only did the men put up tents, but they began to erect towers and fences. And this, she realized with no small amount of fascination, was a second home to Xu Liang, who quickly became involved in what was undoubtedly continued tactical conversation with officers who belonged to the base unit.
While she found a place for Kirlothden to relax and graze away from the activity, she wondered what Tristus and the others might think of this.
Taya would be worried, of course, and Tarfan would be full of dwarf bravado. She imagined that Tristus would be quite impressed and that Alere would be very interested, in spite of his stubborn lack of expression in most matters. The thought of all of them inspired her to smile momentarily. The expression left her when she happened to look over her shoulder at Ma Shou. He was escorted by a large group to a tent that would likely function as his cell. The man’s severely battered and weary appearance failed to inspire sympathy in her—perhaps some small amount of pity—but when he managed to look through his host of guards and find her, she couldn’t help but to feel challenged. His very presence was an offense to Xu Liang, as far as she was concerned. He had acted as an assassin for a murderous rival of the mystic. Neither she nor her brother would have been so merciful in his handling as Xu Liang had been.
Ma Shou was led into his tent. A banner fluttered in the periphery of her vision and she looked up at it, watching the form of a blue dragon undulate on the breeze of the southern hills.
ALERE SAT BACK in the window off the common room which overlooked Xu Liang’s garden. In his hand was a small sculpture of a blue dragon, the same statuette which the mystic had given him in Aer in order to help pay for the yak. Alere had traded his flute instead, believing that the statuette was something of worth to Xu Liang. He hoped to present it to him at some point, though it had become easy for him to deliberately forget, as it was fast becoming something he hoped to keep as a token of their experiences together. If it was mentioned specifically, he would return it.
The decision felt very reminiscent of his childhood, and his penchant when very young for taking items that belonged to his father. He had never intended to keep them, and often had not kept whatever he had taken for long. The habit had been broken when he broke an item of his father’s. It was a peculiar thing to have the habit revitalized through relationship with someone who had been only a peculiar human to him months ago.
Of course, Tristus had been of similar regard to him and he had attempted to steal a good deal more from the knight. Through days of training exercise and study, they still had not established themselves beyond friendship, but Alere was not going to insist, and Tristus was evidently not going to separate from his vigil over Xu Liang’s heart.
At one time Alere had nearly asked Xu Liang whether or not he felt anything romantic for Tristus, simply for the sake of knowing, but he had reneged. It had only been with the topic of the knight that Alere hesitated when speaking to Xu Liang. It was not a fear of stirring offense, or even of what might be revealed of Xu Liang’s interests that had been inspiring him to withhold on the matter. He had not been precisely certain, until having adopted the sense of brotherhood with the mystic, that he realized what it was. He believed at the time they were having the conversation that it had been to spare Xu Liang stress. Alere understood now that it was to allow himself to maintain an open door for Tristus, that he might not feel cornered by not only Xu Liang’s lack of reciprocation, but by Alere’s full knowledge of it. So long as Alere didn’t have a validated argument against Tristus’ holding out hope, Tristus could not feel forced to give up. Surrender was not what Alere wanted from him.
Movement in the corner of his vision brought Alere’s gaze to the garden. He looked upon Xu Liang’s secretary and Huang Shang-san in conversation. The two had walked to the table near the house and while Huang Shang-san seated himself, Er Chiong stayed standing. Their voices could only scarcely be heard and there was nothing importantly familiar to their words. The two had been in frequent meeting. As frequent, Alere assumed as Xu Liang and the minister would have been had he been at home. Even without war, a political environment as vast and networked as Sheng Fan’s would undoubtedly require the mystic’s constant attention. That he had managed to steal time away in order to search for the Blades was impressive to Alere.
Putting away the dragon statuette in his pocket, Alere stood and left the two older men to their conversation. In the hall, he encountered the dwarves, both of them standing conspicuously near the main garden entrance. Alere didn’t see why, since neither of them spoke Fanese fluently yet. Still, he positioned himself in the doorway to the suite and observed them.
It was then that Tristus arrived from the kitchen. The knight looked from the dwarves to Alere, then back again. Coming to a stand beside Alere, he asked, “What are they up to?”
Tarfan turned toward them and waved one arm dismissively. “Hush, lads.”
“Why?” Tristus asked with an amused and slightly suspicious smile. “What are you doing over there?”
“Eavesdropping, I suspect,” Alere answered. When both dwarves shushed him frantically, he added, “Poorly.”
Tarfan bristled with pent aggravation. His ensuing words came out forcibly enunciated through the strain of it and of trying to keep his voice low. “Would the two of you pups, please, for the sake of all that the Heartstone of the Stormbright Caverns has ever heated…be still!”
Tristus’ face could be described as nothing short of amused. He grinned openly, though did begin to apologize.
“Ah!” The dwarf raised a finger in protest.
Tristus displayed both hands in surrender. When the dwarf turned around once again to join his niece, the knight settled both hands at his sides and waited. His eyes were still smiling and when they glanced in Alere’s direction, he returned a small smile of his own and otherwise looked toward their smallish companions.
Both dwarves reeled abruptly away from the garden entrance moments later, hurrying to place themselves nearer to Alere and Tristus.
“Behave naturally,” Tarfan instructed, and was duly ignored.
“Naturally,” Tristus echoed. “Weren’t you, then?”
“Shush,” Taya insisted while Huang Shang-san and Er Chiong were returning indoors. While the two were completing their conversation several steps away, she added, “A letter came from the southern hills.”
“A letter?” Tristus inquired, all amusement cast aside. “From Shirisae and Xu Liang?”
“I think so,” Taya answered.
Once again, Tristus looked toward Alere, who replied this time with direct eye contact returned. It had been some time since they’d been told anything of the battle. The longest exchange between armies Alere had been involved in would have ended by now. But skirmishes over territory in the mountains tended to be a swifter affair than actual war. The further Alere’s people retreated into seclusion, the less frequent they became. His months—more than a year, possibly—hiring onto nearly any army that required another sword had also been a period of briefer altercations. The men of the Yvarias fought among one another more than they challenged the elves of the mountains. So long as Alere’s people stayed within the mountains, men tended to abandon interest in them altogether. The Verres Range was not comfortably inhabitable to hu
mans. They preferred to squabble over who held greater authority in the forested parts, which were densely populated with lawless gypsies, men who had migrated north from Treska in order to avoid annexation of population and property inspired by actual war, and groups of raiders from the far north—including Aer—who hoped to become kings over the kingless. The Yvarias had been known for that last aspect since the decline of the region’s elven lords and the paralleling fall of the hierarchy of human aristocratic families, both of whom had once fought with each other, just as determinedly as the elves and men of the south.
The empires of the west were not to last—perhaps by the decree of the gods. It may have been that this empire of the east would also fall. And in that event, with no order left to follow, it seemed that chaos would inherit the lands of Dryth.
Er Chiong departed while Alere was forming the thought. Alere watched him for no important reason, except that he was in motion. When Huang Shang-san addressed them, he shifted his attention to the elder.
“The campaign in the south is on the path to victory,” he said, holding up the rolled parchment that contained words that were possibly in Xu Liang’s hand. “The Empress’ forces are advancing successfully. And also…”
Taya took hold of Tristus’ arm and smiled while Tarfan passed around a look of confidence, as if he’d taken some part in Xu Liang’s success.
Alere declined to acknowledge victory just yet, watching Huang Shang-san consult the scroll. He seemed to be struggling to decipher some aspect of it, which inspired Tristus to reach for it.
“May I?” he asked, perhaps suspecting what Alere did—that Xu Liang might have written something in Yvarian. When Tristus took the letter into his hands—freeing one of them from Taya—he smiled, confirming that suspicion. “Xu Liang addressed us. He says: ‘To my beloved friends from the west, await a victorious return in the coming weeks. We are both safe and in good spirits. Your success in resolving the concerns beneath the west court are greatly appreciated. Please, continue to train and to study…’”
Tristus’ smile faded, his voice dropping off.
“What is it?” Taya asked.
When Tristus didn’t answer immediately, Tarfan inserted. “Did a spider crawl onto the page, lad? What is it?”
Tristus looked to Alere. “He’d like you to partake of an investigation of the outer settlement with the prefect of the city. He said to have Aerkiren at hand. There’s an illustration of an emblem included.”
Alere frowned, taking the scroll when Tristus passed it to him. His eyes moved over what to him appeared an entire page of emblems—so picturesque were the written Fanese characters—but he quickly came to the small block of Yvarian letters and the illustration beside it. It was of a tree formed of smaller components that were possibly meant to be stones or…
“He said to look for a tree of bone,” Tristus said, perhaps for the benefit of Huang Shang-san and the dwarves.
Alere had just come upon the words himself and while he continued to study the brush drawing, he believed he understood. “It must be an item of enchantment.”
“And he wants your sword to neutralize its effect,” Tristus presumed.
Alere believed that was true. There seemed no other reason for him to assist the prefect specifically.
“I suppose it’s off you go, then,” Tristus said. He looked to Huang Shang-san. “You’ll be accompanying, I’m guessing.”
The minister nodded. “Yes. At once. Lord Zhu Meng has already been notified.”
“I’ve a session with Guang Ci,” Tristus told Alere. And then he smiled in a way that Alere considered private. “We’ll continue to prove ourselves.”
Alere hadn’t been looking for encouragement, but he accepted it all the same. He handed the scroll back to Tristus, who took it in such a way that their fingers overlapped briefly. The pause that followed suggested that it might have been intentional. Whether it was or it wasn’t, Alere slipped his hand away first and determined not to focus on the gesture overly. Tristus had become more confusing than Alere ever would have anticipated, even given the unusual circumstances of either of their interests.
ZHU MENG PROCEEDED down the stairs which fronted the Palace of the Prefect, toward the courtyard and an awaiting unit of city guards. The dark brown steed he preferred for any occasion outside of walls of the People’s City was ready for him. A man passed the reins to him when he approached, and he quickly mounted.
“Let us carry out Lord Xu Liang’s request,” he said to the guards.
Among them was Huang Shang-san and one of Xu Liang’s barbarians. He greeted each of them with a bow of his head while he guided his horse by them and toward the gates. The Imperial Tactician’s instructions were clear and urgent. Zhu Meng would accept the assistance of one of the heroes who had fought against the dragon, who was blessed with one of the weapons of the gods, and whom Xu Liang had vouched on behalf of even before the Empress’ blessing upon each of them.
Even so firmly decided, he yet found it helplessly uncomfortable to have the Empress’ White Tiger General in his presence. There were some who were moving fast in the direction of a greater blessing upon Xu Liang himself; that these outsiders were not merely outsiders, but that they were sends from the gods, to guide the Silent Emperor to the throne of Sheng Fan.
Zhu Meng knew that Xu Liang would reject such an attitude and turn back such rumors at once. In a way, that made the Empress’ barbarian generals a potential threat to the stability of the court. On the other hand, there had already been a threat in existence, one from talk of curses. Xu Liang’s opposition had long been filling the streets of Jianfeng with rumors of a curse upon the Song family. Some were saying that Xu Liang was among the perpetrators of such a curse and that his outsiders were evidence of that.
Personally, Zhu Meng believed neither side of the matter. Xu Liang was a competent and loyal official of the court of the Song Dynasty. He had loved Song Bao as a father. He had loved Song Lu as a brother. And he loved Song Da-Xiao as a sister. They were his family away from Du and for whom he would go to any lengths for. That was what his western allies proved. Their presence and the presence of the Celestial Swords was a testament to Xu Liang’s commitment to the Song and to the peace and unity of Sheng Fan. Zhu Meng would continue to make statements of that fact, and he would persistently fend off the rest.
Still, the White Tiger unsettled him. Zhu Meng would strive to grow accustomed to him, and to the others as well. He led the patrol through the gates of his palace and offices, and into the streets of the People’s City. There had been a disturbance in the outside commune several nights ago. The report had mentioned nothing of any disturbing or suspicious markings or items left upon the ground or anywhere near where the incident had occurred. The incident had involved fire, however. It was easily possible that in putting it out, whatever Xu Liang believed may have been left there had been destroyed already.
But Xu Liang had asked them to search, and they would. It may have been that the White Tiger’s Blade had some ability to see what was hidden from the eye.
DRILLS WITH FANESE warriors were not to be considered anything less than a true test of one’s ability. Even having undergone combat training in Andaria, Tristus was learning that he had some distance to cover in achieving the Fanese level of skill and discipline. He realized that it wasn’t necessarily that they were worlds stronger or faster; it was in the way that strength and speed was applied. There was a precision about it, as if energy was somehow withheld until the point of sure contact, and once that path was established it all sort of channeled directly where it needed to be. The style seemed to lack…well, to lack waste, Tristus supposed. Andarian style came with a lot of force and rushing, attempts to overwhelm made through relentless attack. It served one well against a line of charging opponents, when momentum would determine who ran over who. Under melee conditions, strategy seemed utter folly. One could either batter his opponents or be battered by them.
But Sheng Fan had a
system that went beyond survival and which abhorred brutality. Fighting a war was not only to achieve victory, but to do so with precision and efficiency that would leave at least some opponents alive to learn from the experience and also to preserve as much of the land and its inhabitants as possible. That considered, Tristus would not assume that Fanese warfare hadn’t seen its moments of singular barbarism and destruction—war was not a peaceable act and could not be made so by any amount of discipline. Still, the aim was not to destroy utterly, nor to win at any cost. According to stories Huang Shang-san had been patient enough to hear and translate when he was available for such activities, a Fanese general knew as much about retreat as he did victory, and retreat was in no way held the same as surrender.
It was all a different philosophy, really, and one which Tristus found very interesting. If he was going to be a part of the Empress’ army, he intended to perform at his best.
The thought followed him into a series of exchanges with Guang Ci that involved the meeting of both of their practice spears in quick succession, a lunge and sweep maneuver from Tristus, a rotational counterstrike made by Guang Ci, and a miscarried block on Tristus’ part. The shaft of Guang Ci’s weapon slapped Tristus’ knee, and then the well-balanced weapon carried over Tristus’ head and came down upon his shoulders, ensuring that he hit the ground.
Tristus yielded.
Guang Ci withdrew his weapon and offered a hand up.
Tristus accepted, but decided against fully standing. He stayed crouched down, feeling a slight pain just below his knee and a mild sting across his shoulders. They were in light armor, which served its essential purpose well. It protected without being a hindrance. For Tristus, who was accustomed to heavier armor, it actually enabled him to maintain speed that could contend with Guang Ci’s. Full armor would be heavier, of course, but not as heavy as even a partial Andarian harness. Even with keeping his breastplate, he felt that he would be better off than he had been as a more heavily adorned knight of the Andarian Church. He suspected that even Alere wouldn’t be overly bothered by a light treatment of armor in the Fanese style.
