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

by T. A. Miles

  Guang Ci asked him if he was ready for another bout, which was among the phrases Tristus could understand.

  He also was able to respond in simple terms, and did so. “Not yet.”

  The proper increment of head bowing was added—to Tristus it seemed a variant of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’—and Guang Ci decided to relax for a moment as well.

  Tristus watched the guardsman drop into a seated position upon the soft, clear ground of their sparring field. It rested in a square beneath the building that was the Chamber of Military Affairs in the South Court of the city. It was framed by stone and small wooden posts. There might have been several men utilizing the space to practice drills on any given day. More structured formations occurred at the north side of the Pavilion of Military Valor. Tristus and Alere had observed a few of them, along with Guang Ci, who was also new to the position the Empress had granted him. It had been brought to Tristus’ attention that they would eventually be asked to oversee their own units. Those units would consist of eight to ten thousand men, at least.

  Back in Andaria, Tristus had held command over less than one thousand men. They contributed to a larger collection of units which amounted to approximately fifteen thousand. That was nearly the entire population of able, trained men at the Eristan Citadel. Granted, Andaria’s capital city housed a much larger army, but Tristus knew that it would not have compared to the amount of soldiers at Jianfeng. He imagined, it would require the union of all human armies of the west, plus the cooperation of some elven armies to meet the forces of Sheng Fan. He hoped that Dryth would never see such a war. The full emergence of chaos might provide portal to such an event, but that only meant that Tristus and the others had all the more reason to be in Sheng Fan and helping Xu Liang.

  While the thoughts played across Tristus’ mind, he looked at the simple spear lying upon the ground nearby. It was not Dawnfire, but it was a sufficient piece for training. He would practice the forms he’d been learning later on, with the Dawn Blade and without an opponent.

  His gaze drifted toward Guang Ci, who sat cross-legged and with his wrists balanced lightly on his knees. He looked prepared to spring up at any moment and resume their sparring. Tristus supposed that he had always been like that—it was probably a mode required of being bodyguard to an important figure. Over the months Tristus had known the younger man, he’d noticed him taking on a more severe aspect. He’d always been quite serious about his responsibilities, but there was something new to his demeanor by now.

  Tristus suspected that some of it might have had to do with transition from his former role as a guard to his titled appointment as the Black Dragon General. A lot of it was likely to do with his station as the bearer of the Night Blade, a weapon that had been wrested from the hands of a legitimate madman, who was also a demon. Behel had a bleak history, mythological and otherwise.

  “I wonder how you’re adjusting,” Tristus mused.

  His words caught the full attention of Guang Ci, whose dark eyes shifted to meet his gaze. His young face, trimmed with a neat beard that he had not borne so pronouncedly at the time Tristus had first met him, gave his Fanese features a sharper and more mature appearance.

  Tristus had always been diligent about maintaining a clean-faced appearance, even after his exile, even when there was more to worry about than appearances. It helped him to retain some sense of himself, to carry on with the habits he’d been taught at home and in service to the Church. In Sheng Fan, there seemed no standard about that particular aspect—not among soldiers, scholars, or politicians. Many men had facial hair, and many men did not. Similarly, length of hair varied—though, no one kept hair as short as Tristus’. In Andaria, his curls would not have been considered quite trimmed.

  Guang Ci’s hair was always knotted high on his head, so the precise length was difficult to discern. Of course, it was nothing to compare to Xu Liang’s tresses, but Tristus was getting the idea that the mystic’s hair was something of an accomplishment, and not common.

  Recalling that he had Guang Ci’s attention, he recalled some of what he’d learned in the Fanese language. He asked, “How do you feel?”

  Guang Ci’s sudden frown inspired instantaneous embarrassment.

  Tristus began reaching for words of apology, wondering what he might have actually said to the man.

  “I feel well,” Guang Ci said, ushering forth a wave of relief.

  Tristus smiled somewhat awkwardly in the wake of both sensations. “Good,” he said, assured that he could not mince so simple a response.

  Guang Ci nodded in reply. And then, in Yvarian, he said, “It is good.”

  Tristus’ smile grew at that, and he nodded to let him know that the words were correct and well-taken. Afterward the guardsman nearly smiled in return. The moment brought Tristus uncomfortably back to the underground, and the amount of glaring they had done for no discernable reason beyond the potential for weariness and the probability that the Night Blade had been weighing on Guang Ci’s spirits.

  Tristus wished that he had a better handle on Fanese. He would have liked to speak about the matter to his fellow bearer in detail. Unfortunately, that would not be today. Today, they would have to be content with fewer words and more sparring.

  Finally, Tristus stood and announced that he was ready to continue.

  THE OUTERMOST population of Jianfeng lived in a clutter of trade, artisanship, and farming. There were plots containing small crops of vegetables literally laid between stands selling various unrelated wares. The residents had set their own stone paths in some sections where the overly trodden and rained upon ground stood the muddiest. There were animals grazing alongside children playing. It was a living testament to the commitment—or desperation—of people who desired to live at the capital of Sheng Fan. They were tolerated, yet ostracized simultaneously. Alere understood that the latter was a side result of maintaining safety within the Imperial City. He had never appreciated the overcrowding of human cities and could not deny that he preferred that the heart of Jianfeng was fortified against too much imposition from the masses, however innocent they may have been as a whole.

  “Patrolling a settlement such as this is very difficult,” Huang Shang-san informed him, as if he were aware of Alere’s thoughts. His reach for the Yvarian words was not quite so far as it had been when he first began tutoring them. “It has collected for some years, only because it would have been nearly impossible to keep the people away. From time to time, guards inspect the area for signs of trouble, or they come out if they are alerted to a problem.”

  “Which is why the disruption involving the fire was noticed,” Alere presumed.

  Huang Shang-san nodded. “Yes.”

  “Does anyone know who started it?” Alere asked, his gaze falling momentarily onto an elderly woman with a smallish canine creature in her lap while she sat weaving upon a simple stool. The dog had a short face, tufted ears, and very long hair. It seemed entirely content. In her way, so did the woman it belonged to.

  “According to Xu Liang, it was a rogue mystic,” Huang Shang-san answered. “A pyromancer.”

  Alere envisioned the one who had harassed them throughout their travels and felt safe to assume that if Xu Liang had taken such an interest in the matter, then it was none other. That meant that Ma Shou survived and that events had either traumatized him too greatly or not enough, if he immediately set about pursuing Xu Liang again.

  The patrol came to a gradual halt, gathering around a location that was interesting because, among an overcrowded settlement, it was an empty lot. No one had attempted to take over the space for any reason.

  Alere guided Breigh toward the others, making brief eye contact with the prefect, who returned the gesture. The man had a severe countenance, but not an obstinate or unfriendly demeanor. It was clear that he regarded his assignment with all the importance that came attached to it. That was good; it meant that he and Alere had the same interests.

  Scanning the ground that the loca
ls seemed intent on avoiding, Alere noticed mostly caked mud and sporadic patches of grass. There was some scorching within a certain radius and also scraps of fabric embedded into partially preserved footsteps. It appeared at a glance that people were not only avoiding occupying the space, but that they were also reluctant to make any path across it.

  “The locals are wary of treading here,” Alere said while he slipped from Breigh’s saddle. While Huang Shang-san converted his words to Fanese for the benefit of the prefect, Alere took light steps across the ill-regarded ground, his gaze moving over the details of it. Isolated in the barren patch, he realized that he was on view, and that many of the people in the area were looking at him. Some had even taken pause from their activities to observe. He did not dignify their staring, but continued to investigate.

  Evidence of an enchantment was not readily apparent. Granted, it would have helped to know the nature of the enchantment, that he might rationalize where it would be laid. He saw no ‘tree of bone’—there were not substantial items of any kind present.

  So, perhaps it was a very small item…an amulet or…

  “What do you see?” Huang Shang-san asked.

  Alere did not answer. His gaze was caught on a set of depressions in the mud. They appeared quite faint. Still, he stepped over to them and crouched down. It was difficult to descry what the pattern might have depicted, but he suspected he knew.

  Rising, he moved quickly toward a nearby stand where a woman was selling beaded wares. He did not ask, but simply took a small handful of pale clay beads from a cup at her stand. She did not protest, but watched him closely. Alere bowed his head and returned to the site, where he again lowered beside the markings. He dropped beads into the depressed areas, following incomplete lines which were completed with the beads and which gradually formed a picture.

  When he had finished, he looked up at the others. “It’s a tree.”

  Huang Shang-san and Zhu Meng exchanged concerned glances.

  Alere stood and drew Aerkiren. He lowered the blade toward the recreated emblem and watched the edges light, though only a small amount. Knocking aside some of the beads, he pressed the tip into the hard mud, wondering if there was anything to be cancelled.

  It was then that the glow from his blade flared outward, though only a little. It seemed inspired by the ground…or maybe something just beneath it.

  Alere traced Aerkiren partway along the body of the tree formation, stopping when something became overturned. He crouched down and plucked the small piece out of the earth, wiping the excess dirt away with his thumb. “It’s bone,” he said.

  “So, there was a bone tree,” Huang Shang-san replied.

  “Yes,” Alere answered, holding up the bit of unknown skeleton—it had been cut at either end but, gauging the size of it all around, it could easily have been from a human finger. “But we only have a piece of it.”

  Zhu Meng said something just then, and shortly thereafter Huang Shang-san spoke. “What does that matter?”

  “If the enchantment was laid in the bones and they’re no longer connected, then all of them must be touched by Aerkiren in order to negate the effect.” Alere rose, bringing the bone fragment to Zhu Meng and handing it to him. He said, to the prefect, “We have to find all of them.”

  A translating exchange occurred quickly between prefect and minister before the latter said, “We don’t know how many there were.”

  No, they didn’t. “We’ll have to find as much as we can and attempt to recreate the pattern so that we may compare.”

  Huang Shang-san looked from Alere to Zhu Meng, seeming to hesitate before he explained Alere’s plan.

  The prefect’s gaze moved over the cursed area, then he nodded. Afterward, he gave orders to his men, who began to dismount. The prefect was the last to do so, and the first to step carefully forward and begin the search. He unsheathed his sword in order to delicately prod the ground in the same manner Alere had done. His men followed suit, and for some reason Huang Shang-san smiled at Alere and bowed his head.

  Gratitude was premature, but Alere returned the gesture anyway and continued to search with the others for enchanted fragments of bone.

  “‘THE EMBLEM OF the bone tree was discovered,’” Xu Liang read aloud. He sat atop Blue Crane with Shirisae upon Kirlothden beside him. Base camp was behind them, and they had paused at Liu Xe Gate to survey the transition from an enemy post to one of their own. The letter from the Imperial City had come by messenger only days after Xu Liang’s request for the investigation would have arrived at the office of the prefect and also at his own home. “‘The components had been scattered by the putting out of the fire, but were regathered to match the impression left in the ground. Aerkiren has touched each part of the emblem, though it is not possible to say whether or not all pieces were found.’”

  “Alere’s very thorough,” Shirisae pointed out.

  Xu Liang nodded in agreement. The silence afterward indicated that they were both aware that it was possible, even for Alere, to have missed one or more pieces. Without knowing precisely what the emblem looked like, it was an even greater possibility. They could only wait to learn whether or not any ill effect took hold.

  “Ma Shou looks in poor spirits,” Shirisae said next.

  Xu Liang knew that. Throughout the southern campaign, their ‘prisoner’ seemed to be growing worse. He suffered nightmares daily and had become increasingly more paranoid that he was being followed and that he would soon be discovered. He seemed to fear the ghost of the unidentified woman even more than the necromancer or the rogue who traveled with him. That was understandable. To draw the attention of a vengeful spirit could be as dangerous and draining as having a curse placed directly upon an individual. Hexes could be abolished, however. A determined spirit was considerably more difficult to do away with, even one that had begun its existence as a mortal.

  That fact made Xu Liang wary of finding Han Quan. It would no longer suffice to arrest him, or even to put him down. If he carried with him the ghost of Cai Shi-meng, then that would also have to be addressed.

  Che Wen Tai had been overtaxed with trying to contain the Spirit of Death. He had not confronted Han Quan for that reason, perhaps. In truth, Xu Liang did not know. His relationship with the masters of the school was not a committed bond of friendship or family, or even one of duty or loyalty. Considering themselves custodians of the mortal plane, the mystics existed separate of the court and parallel to its policy when they chose. They were not required to prove nor to maintain loyalty to the Empress when they existed outside of official office. Xu Liang and Han Quan were not typical examples of a mystic’s path in Sheng Fan. It was in part for that reason that Xu Liang refused the invitation to become a master at the school. He had often wondered how Han Quan could have balanced both responsibilities, but now he understood that the former chancellor had not.

  The Decision at Jin Fu Castle

  THE SOUTHERN CAMPAIGN was officially one month old and the days had firmly allied with autumn by the time Jin Fu Castle came within reach. Base camp was only a days’ ride away, though it had been several days since Ji’s forces had been able to press through Xun’s defending lines and over the border at Fa Leng. The armies of the Empress could have been called back and still have achieved victory over Ha Ming Jin’s rebellion, but the troops remained strong. Food was yet plentiful. Expenditure was high, but balanced against the projected end result. A further step was possible.

  “Our forces are at roughly seventy-four thousand,” Tian Qi estimated.

  “They may yet have sixty to eighty thousand remaining at Jin Fu,” Hei Xue suggested.

  “I don’t think so,” Xu Liang inserted, looking over journals he had made along the way and which he had compiled with those made by both Wen Xiu’s and Tian Qi’s acting tacticians. “I would estimate no more than forty-five thousand, even drawing freshly from the local population.”

  “A draft would ensure undertrained troops,” Wen Xiu commented,
brow raised contemplatively.

  Zhou Biao agreed. “On top of weary troops. We would be assured victory.”

  “A siege is never an assured victory,” Tian Qi told him, as a simple statement of fact, which opened up fresh debate amongst them.

  Xu Liang allowed them to converse over their evening meal while he continued to study. There would be no point in relying on further reinforcement. Chu Yao was spent and Bei Xo was nearer than the Imperial City. Ha Ming Jin had likely already sent another unit. If there was no way to take Jin Fu before they arrived, it would be a lost cause. The troops would be too exhausted to carry on for the length of a siege versus yet another allotment from Bei Xo. A siege could take a month or more. That in itself would tend to eliminate the option at this stage.

  The man planted at Liu Xe had been successful, enabling the prompt seizing of the gate. Tian Qi had eliminated nearly all outposts within the misappropriated areas of Fa Leng and the reinforcements had ensured that they could no longer be of use to the enemy. The remaining Xun forces had retreated to Jin Fu Castle. It was a strong fortification with a weaker side that would be nearly impossible to take advantage of. Swift battles were not Xu Liang’s strong point and to persist at this stage may have seemed little more than stubbornness.

  Thought of stubbornness put his mind toward elves. Endurance came to mind next, and Tristus was added, along with Guang Ci. Fleetingly, he considered that he might have brought the others after all. He reminded himself immediately that it would have been too soon, though the troops’ relative acceptance of Shirisae would seem to spite him in that thought. He had been informed before Liu Xe Gate that the men were not only maintaining an allowance for Shirisae’s presence, but they had been gaining enthusiasm. According to the information Gai Ping had collected from the guards beneath him and from conversations among the troops at camp, many of the men regarded Shirisae precisely in the light that Xu Liang had hoped for. She was a boon sent directly from the Heavens—sent to aid Xu Liang specifically, some believed. He had also come to learn that the marriage being talked about was not necessarily a mortal marriage, but a match that had already been made by the gods. It was for that reason—some of them had gone so far as to speculate—that Xu Liang had waited for marriage.