by T. A. Miles
“What do you know of sailing?” Wen Haifu asked beside him. The man was aged; gray hair topped his head and lined his jaw. As well, the lines of human aging had begun to crease his features. His nature was overall jovial, but there was the edge of one with many years of experience about him as well.
In reply, Alere said, “Nothing.”
“What do you know of command?” the man asked next.
And Alere said, “Much.”
Wen Haifu laughed, in the way of men who felt challenged, but not threatened. In some ways, he was very like Fu Ran, though nowhere near as large.
“I wonder what your first orders will be,” Wen Haifu continued.
“I have none,” Alere told him.
Wen Haifu raised his brow. “I thought you said you knew much of command.”
“I did. I never said I knew much of commanding.”
The aging general made something of a display of his amusement—or his upset. It was difficult to tell and it was something Alere had always found strange, if not mildly uncomfortable whenever he was witness to it among men.
“You have the clever tongue of a devil!” Wen Haifu proclaimed.
“I have the tongue of an elf,” Alere said. “That and a fellow warrior are all you ever need take me for.”
“Look across at all of those ships,” Wen Haifu continued, sweeping his arm out to display the scene below. “All of those men intend to take you as a general.”
“You state the obvious,” Alere told him.
“The two of us will have no trouble understanding each other.” Wen Haifu began to laugh, but his attention was drawn behind them before he could become too animated.
Alere waited until the man’s back was turned, and then allowed himself to smile, though only a little while he thought of previous companions, all of whom he was able to admit that he missed.
Kong Dan, the unit’s tactician, arrived and the three of them proceeded across the wall and down to the busy yards of Jianang, through the open Gate of Honor, which was red-washed timber reinforced with iron. A broad terrace of stone brought them to the top of the stairs leading down to the ships. Breigh had already been guided down with the other animals by soldiers who had spent considerable time preparing themselves and the ships for departure. They were joined by dockhands who had likely been making advanced preparations for days. Speed would be essential.
The priority was to arrive on the shores of Xun as swiftly as possible and, after contending with whatever defense was offered on water, to proceed onto land. A course of likely outposts had been mapped along the route to Bei Xo Castle, where Alere’s unit would join with Tian Qi’s, and hopefully Tristus’—provided Tzu stood down and enabled them to come across by that route. Tristus’ route would take the longest, so his goal would be to ensure that Xun’s forces were preoccupied with assault from the west and unable to offer support to Bei Xo. It was Xu Liang’s strategy, and if he’d succeeded at Du, he would be joining the central troops. It seemed likely that Shirisae would accompany him, so long as her own task had not delayed her.
And all of this would take weeks, if not longer to culminate. All of this to keep chaos at bay.
Alere let the thought go, drawing to a pause when he and the others came to a landing midway down the cliff face, where it became very apparent how embedded the stairs were among colossal monoliths that could only have been placed by gods. The green islands were so large and so set against the coast that they seemed somehow in range to be touched, yet only the birds could reach them. They towered over the bay below, like the columns of a great hall. It was a scene Alere would not soon forget.
“At first the gods built a wall to keep men from trying to sail to the Heavens,” Kong Dan said, detecting Alere’s sense of awe. “But men were not so easily contained. That is why Fei Jung’s wyrm patrols the distant waters.”
Alere looked further out to see when that was mentioned, seeing only clouds on the horizon. Their language studies had come with many accounts of history and legend. He did recall that one in particular, but being on the coast gave it more context.
Satisfied with the moments of observation allowed, he continued on with the officers in his company. Near the base of the stairs, the next to tower over them were the Fuan-Li boats. Colossal Dragon, it meant, where colossal in some way referenced ancestors as well as size.
There were several stories between the level of the docks and the main decks of the Fuan-Li ships. There were four large stories on top of that; small fortresses complete with balconies, exaggerated eaves, and painted columns. There were carvings of dragons in several places on each ship, and at the ship’s bow, a mammoth sculpture of a dragon’s head.
Looking at the vessel before him, it became quite clear to Alere that there would be no trouble accommodating all the men, animals, and supplies to be taken south.
“It was once a seasonal occurrence for the Imperial Family to take tours of the coast of Sheng Fan,” Kong Dan offered, though no explanation had been requested. “These ships were built by the predecessors of the Ganzan Dynasty, originally intended to carry armies to the shores of enemies, during the early expansion of the Empire. They became traveling palaces for a time and, on occasion, have still been used to carry officials and merchants to the Sea of Luck during heavy trade periods. More often, they’ve been used to transport materials to various harbors within the Empire. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, they’re very expensive to operate.”
Alere had not been making guesses as to any financial matters. He already knew that war was costly. While the statement roused some conversation between Kong Dan and Wen Haifu, Alere’s gaze and his thoughts were drawn behind him, toward the cliff wall which stood between himself and the great distance leading west, to Tristus. Without doubt, the knight was making good allies of his officers, or he was supremely frustrating them. Alere did not believe it was possible to hold Tristus Edainien in a mediocre light.
The notion was held to a passing one while Alere stepped to the gangway, and onto the sensational vessel that was a dragon boat of Sheng Fan.
THE RETURN to the Imperial City had happened swiftly, once Tiong Zhong had been found and investigated. Shirisae was not surprised to find that her party had arrived ahead of Xu Liang’s. Huang Shang-san and Er Chiong were helpful in bringing her as current as they were able. The White Tiger and Iron Horse Generals had departed, taking the early steps in Xu Liang’s strategy of a three-sided assault upon Xun. Tian Qi was actively organizing what would be the penetrating force. Xu Liang was to be the tactician while the Cavalier General assumed supreme command of the Empress’ away troops. Shirisae had been assigned a unit beneath Tian Qi’s overall leadership and the expectations of her were primarily support and defense. The forces would leave ahead of Xu Liang, if necessary.
For that reason, Shirisae explained as much of what she had discovered in Tiong Zhong as she could to Huang Shang-san and Er Chiong, the second of which was diligent enough to document for Xu Liang’s benefit, if he should arrive late. Tarfan agreed to stay and wait for the mystic if necessary and Shirisae had already made some notes onto Xu Liang’s pages, but she wanted to be as thorough as possible. She understood that some details that may have been meaningless to her or to Tarfan, might have spoken volumes to a mind like Xu Liang’s.
After their conversation, Huang Shang-san then returned her and Pang Xizhi to the Empress’ palaces, at least for the moment. The handmaiden insisted upon making them both more presentable and Shirisae allowed it, only so that her armor could be reconditioned for more travel. It was during that private time, in the relative safety of the Imperial City, that Shirisae took it upon herself to inquire of the girl’s frame of mind after her journey away from comforts and security, toward darker aspects of the world and violence she might never have even envisioned in her years that could not have exceeded eighteen.
Pang Xizhi admitted that she had been much afraid, but that she had felt protected by Shirisae. She claimed that she w
as not thinking about the specific events overly, because she had seen Shirisae banish the dark spirits and knew that they were safe from them.
Shirisae’s handling of the undead in that village secured no such guarantee, but she accepted the girl’s words and faith anyway.
It was in the bedroom of the Empress where Taya set an unimpressed look upon Shirisae and bluntly stated in Yvarian, “It should have been me who went with you, you know.”
“Yes,” Shirisae humored. “But you had a greater responsibility.”
Taya gave a nod and looked over at Song Da-Xiao, who was sitting up presently with Song Bin Ce beside her. She appeared stable yet—certainly no worse than she was before. “Yes. But this illness is defying everything. It’s like it has a mind of its own, and will only allow basic relief from the symptoms, but the symptoms won’t go away altogether…not for anyone who’s become ill, as far as I’m aware.”
Shirisae nodded. “And only a few have died. I think it does have a will of its own, because it’s being controlled by an individual. This isn’t a curse, so much as it’s a threat. If action isn’t taken to the satisfaction of the one who initiated this, it will get worse. Xu Liang and I both believe that.”
“Right,” Taya sighed. “He talked to Tristus and me about it as well. Still…if the Empress misses anything important, it’s going to look bad.”
“I think the greater concern is that someone might speak of it outside of these walls,” Shirisae said. “There’s already widespread fear of a curse upon the entire line of Sheng Fan’s current ruling family.”
“And some want Xu Liang to take over and save us, and some think Xu Liang’s to blame by corrupting the already weak line and making it weaker,” Taya said, rotating her hand in a gesture of impatience. “I know. Song Bin Ce explained the whole mess to me.”
“It is indeed a mess,” Shirisae replied, looking over her shoulder at Guang Ci, who stood rigidly as a statue. He appeared quite preoccupied mentally, and Shirisae was almost inclined to go over to him to inquire of his state.
Taya noticed. “He’s been like that since the Sun Blade was brought in and mounted at the foot of the Empress’ bed. Xu Liang hoped that it would better draw her in to whatever forces seem to be protecting the rest of you bearers, but I think it’s been reminding him of Jiao Ren and the dragon. He snapped at Tristus like it was another of his sworn duties before Tristus was called to action elsewhere.”
Shirisae had not been aware of that. It worried her instantly, because she recalled the legend of the Blades that Xu Liang had told them, and she had witnessed—at least in an illusion—the way the energies of the weapons seemed to want to reenact some aspects of their legendary bearers’ personas. She was willing to accept that it was the legend of the lovers Shi Tan and Zan Jang that may have inspired at least some of her early romanticizing of Tristus. And if that were true, then it might have been nudging Guang Ci to prod someone he might already have been inclined to regard as a brother. Prodding Tristus came at the risk of provoking a demon.
“We’ll have to talk to Xu Liang about that,” Shirisae decided, and simultaneously decided not to worry overly, since there was no legend attached to any relationship for the better or the worse regarding the Night Bearer and the Sun God. All anyone seemed to know was that the two weapons repelled each other. But on the chance that there was a larger story, it would be brought up with Xu Liang. And disregarding all of that… “It may be that he’s simply very focused, and getting very tired. We all know how Guang Ci pushes himself.”
Taya agreed, and agreed that she would monitor him closely for the sake of all involved.
JUN KAI HAD decided that he would go nowhere during the winter months. He had already planned to spend most of that time in meditation in the deep shelter he had made of one of the oldest trees of the Cheng Goro forest. The ancestral wood was harder to connect with, but more pliable once he made the commitment to do so. With natural holes already formed in such an elder bole as the one he’d chosen, it became a simple—though time-consuming—process to work a deeper recess into the interior. Fashioning a barrier to keep the snow from drifting in was the final step, and the point of no return. He would not allow curiosity over Ha Ming Jin’s letter until spring.
Spring came, and he delayed anyway. He was not of an age to properly retire himself to the wilds and expect to be allowed to do so in peace. But he was no longer young. With his youth spent in study, some of it sponsored by the late Ha Sheng, it might have been that the previous governor’s successor had come to the decision that Jun Kai owed some years of service before he did become a true elder. Ha Sheng’s sponsorship had come with no such stipulations, but Jun Kai had heard enough about the current governor of Xun to know better than to expect him to share Ha Sheng’s respect.
Regardless of any of that, Ha Ming Jin had made mention of a dragon. Throughout the duration of his hermitage, he had not seen even the traces of a forest dragon. What type of beast did Ha Ming Jin believe had visited upon a populated area?
Bei Xo was still standing, so there seemed no crisis or threat—not that Jun Kai would have been able to abate such a threat. Half of his curiosity was owed to the suggestion that Ha Ming Jin believed he would be of any assistance. His perception of mystics seemed…filled with an unusual optimism. It seemed almost an expectancy.
The gates were quite secured when Jun Kai arrived at the castle. Even after stating his name to the guards, he’d been told to return to whatever commune he’d come from. He was decided that he would, since he was in the area of his birth, but he had no sooner turned to go when an official arrived. The man demanded to know what manner of ignorant was at the gates during such a critical hour, and then became profusely apologetic when he learned Jun Kai’s identity.
Jun Kai nearly left, but his curiosity compelled him. He allowed himself to be taken beyond the outer walls of the fortress and into the home of Ha Ming Jin. Along the way, he crossed paths with Han Quan. The true elder bowed and Jun Kai paid him the same courtesy, but there was little genuine respect between them. Han Quan was defiant and unhelpful. His role among the Seven Mystics was intended to be precisely the opposite. And now Sheng Fan had fewer learned geomancers, and a neglected seat among the masters. It would be that way until Han Quan died, since it was not customary to replace a master once they’d gone through the steps to become one. It was Jun Kai’s opinion that Han Quan had only ever done just what was required.
HAN QUAN SUSPECTED he knew why Jun Kai had arrived at Bei Xo, and decided that it was no more important than Ha Ming Jin’s incessant scheming to get him out of his castle. He’d known when he made his position clear to the young governor that it would be the start of the end of any relationship they might have as allies. He’d held Ha Ming Jin off long enough that he no longer cared what the young governor planned to do. Han Quan was on his way to the rocky corridors of central Xun, where the Imperial Forces would have to pass in order to strike Bei Xo. Xu Liang would undoubtedly be among them. Han Quan intended to assist the commander of Xun’s defense forces long enough to see the Imperial Tactician destroyed. He had meditated in the insufferable presence of Ha Ming Jin for over half a year, for just that purpose.
THE WINTER HAD been nightmarish. Loss to Xu Liang—nearly precisely as Han Quan had predicted—followed by Imperial demands, at the risk of Imperial penalty…days and nights fretting over the possibilities of the dragon egg…
That wasn’t even to mention the years of back and forth commitment from Tzu. Yuan Feng, the malcontent…displeased with everything. There would be no trusting their neighbor to the west, but at least Tzu would not be supporting Ji. It was one more set of problems to put Xu Liang’s attentions toward.
Unexpectedly, Xu Liang had not deliberated the threat or attempted negotiations. He had planned first strike. The Empress’ armies were on the march.
In light of all that had been stacking in challenge against him, Ha Ming Jin was beside himself with relief and excitement when the
xylomancer finally responded to his summons. It had taken four envoys weeks for one of them to have any luck finding the hermit mystic and afterward there had been no sign of response. Ha Ming Jin assumed he had been ignored.
But finally, Jun Kai had come. He appeared somewhat bedraggled; dressed in basic gray and brown robes, his hair untidily pulled back, and his complexion weathered by exposure to the wilds. Still, his level of skill was not to be determined by his presentation.
Ha Ming Jin greeted him with a formal bow of welcome, but the mystic seemed not to notice. He was already preoccupied with the unsightly growth of stone in the center of the room.
“That was a gift from the geomancer Han Quan,” Ha Ming Jin explained.
“A gift of what?” Jun Kai asked while he slowly circled it.
“Of ill will and betrayal, in response to assistance when he was most in jeopardy.”
“What’s inside of it?” Jun Kai specified, making it plain that he cared nothing for the politics behind it.
He would not be easily recruited. So be it.
“A dragon’s egg,” Ha Ming Jin answered. “I was told it would attract the notice of an adult.”
Jun Kai seemed to have nothing to say to that. He set his hand upon the stone and Ha Ming Jin winced internally, anticipating that Han Quan’s spell might take the presence of another mystic for some form of assault.
“Han Quan also said that his spell would protect itself,” Ha Ming Jin informed him, hopefully not too late.
Jun Kai’s attention could scarcely be drawn from the rock. He heard the words belatedly, looking almost absently in Ha Ming Jin’s direction. He said, “Oh.” And then he waved his hand dismissively. “No. That’s nonsense.”
Ha Ming Jin’s lips set firmly and his jaw shifted with aggravation while he drew in a long breath. He should have known.
“The nature of an enchantment cannot change once it’s been laid,” the xylomancer explained. “He manifested this boulder to stay in place. It can do nothing more. However, cleaving the rock with weapons might damage what’s within.”
