by T. A. Miles
“I am not the berserker,” Vengeance told him, withdrawing momentarily—only so that it could barrel forward again. Tendrils of green flame became visible on the wind that kept the spirit at bay. “I only made him stronger! And I am not the betrayer—I made him more determined!”
“Men are responsible for themselves,” Xu Liang agreed. “But they look to the gods for guidance.”
On those words, the Flame manifested fully. The avatar of the Phoenix dove across the distance, carried by the wind. The golem bearing the Spirit of Vengeance became immediately entangled in the form of the Phoenix. Wrapped in wings and tails of silver and green fire, it struggled fiercely. Xu Liang felt the conflict; he felt the blows the golem laid upon the body of the Phoenix, and he felt the exertion of flame as it enfolded the element of earth that had been misappropriated for this task and slowly released it.
Vengeance lost its form, grains of sand drifting off like embers. With a roar that sent waves through the atmosphere of the spirit plane, Vengeance was driven off.
An enraged howl that was the mortal equal of the spirit’s protest emitted from Han Quan. The earth surged forward in waves, gaining height and force across the distance as if a wave rolling to shore.
The Phoenix rose from its victory and arced back to Xu Liang, who again summoned the wind to protect him. The combined elements met the tidal wave of sand, wrapping around each other and forming a pillar that abruptly stretched to the heights of a space with no discernable dimension.
Xu Liang concentrated his efforts on diminishing it, knowing that each spell countered here was sapping the power from the spell Han Quan had set upon the pass. Eventually, his endurance would fall. Concentration on all of his spells would break.
“And yours are so assured of outlasting mine?” Han Quan challenged. “You will also die!”
Xu Liang did not acknowledge him. The column of elements grew momentarily thicker, spinning faster…but then the earth was expelled in a great plume and the column gradually dwindled, until it was as narrow as the strands of red yet held aloft over the expanse.
The ashen dust settled, and amid the strands the figure of a man appeared. His robes were without embellishment and a pale gray that nearly blended with the earth underfoot. He held something in his fingers, which Xu Liang had no recognition of, but it stirred the presence of another.
From beneath Xu Liang’s feet, strands of black raced across the expanse, like cracks snaking over it…or like blight through the veins of a leaf.
The man knelt down, depositing the item—which may have been a seed—into a mound of sand. The action brought Han Quan forward swiftly. He appeared beside the man in gray, then dropped down and attempted to dig the item out.
The other man—a fellow mystic, Xu Liang presumed—rose again and stepped back, unconcerned with Han Quan’s actions. He looked at Xu Liang and bowed his head.
“I am Jun Kai,” he said. “I hope to meet soon.”
Xu Liang returned the bow, and the man named Jun Kai was gone.
Han Quan’s search yielded no results, but he still refused to stop. The lines of darkness arrived and overhead, the sky shifted to deeper tones. It was then that Han Quan attempted to retreat, and it was then that a white arm came up from the mound of earth, latching onto him with a familiarly desperate hand.
Han Quan tried to wrest free, but to no avail. The hand continued to detain him while another arm the color of bone emerged afterward, pulling him down. The struggle lasted for mere moments.
The geomancer was drawn into the earth.
XU LIANG OPENED his eyes to the crash of thunder, realizing quickly that it was not thunder. A rock erupted along its path to the Moon Blade’s dome, the remains dancing across the surface of the energy. More boulders were driven down the pass. The spell had not stopped.
Maintaining the dome, he turned enough in Blue Crane’s saddle to look behind him. Shirisae traveled the space immediately in front of the Yellow Gate, using the Storm Blade to disperse the larger rocks. All around her the troops were engaged in battle with Xun’s forces. Soldiers in blue were in greater number than those in red from Xu Liang’s current perspective.
Shirisae must have seen him turn to look at her; she was coming toward him.
When she and Kirlothden arrived, Xu Liang held out his hand to her. “I need your help,” he told her, finding himself somewhat bereft of breath. Sensations of pain began to swell beneath his skin in the aftermath of his spiritual confrontation with Cai Shi-meng and the Spirit of Vengeance. It served to remind him—if he had been inclined to forget—that while the Phoenix may have been strengthening him, it did not render him unbreakable. His body remained a mortal one.
Shirisae seemed briefly unsure that she would be able to reach him through the dome, but she moved Kirlothden forward anyway. She paused directly beside the field of Mei Qiao’s protection, putting her hand out. Her fingers made contact, sending ripples through the dome—which Xu Liang also felt—but it parted for her, as if she’d dipped her hand into water. She moved forward and the dome expanded around her and Kirlothden, bringing them both beneath the Moon Blade’s shelter.
Shirisae put her hand into Xu Liang’s for the moment, and he held it. He found the immediate quiet and her presence soothing.
“Han Quan has succumbed to powers of the spirit plane, but his body remains,” Xu Liang explained. “It must be suspended in his last actions.”
Shirisae nodded, understanding. “So, we must find him.”
“You must ride up the pass and locate his body,” Xu Liang said. “You must bring it down in order to end his spell. Without knowing precisely where it’s sourcing, I cannot take it onto myself and end it that way.”
Again Shirisae nodded, this time while she viewed the rockslide before them.
“I will project the protection of the Moon Blade and of the Phoenix over you while you ride,” he assured her.
But it wasn’t assurance that she wanted. Looking over at him, she leaned across the space between them, inspiring a kiss that neither of them allowed to linger, but which filled Xu Liang with refreshed hope—much of it personal and still somewhat unexpected in light of all that he had come to enforce upon himself.
“I will find him,” Shirisae promised.
She straightened in the saddle. Xu Liang withdrew his hand from hers slowly, and she moved Kirlothden into position.
THE PASS WAS long, but wide. Even if the shielding powers of the Moon Blade and the Phoenix became overextended, there would be plenty of space for maneuvering. Shirisae felt confident that she would be able to avoid some of the rocks and use Firestorm to deter any imminent threats. It was the sound, more than anything that bothered her, though she tried not to let it. She reminded herself that the Storm Blade could make a greater sound, and then she patted Kirlothden on the neck.
“Stay with me,” she said to him softly.
Afterward she concentrated on studying the fall of rocks, watching for an opportunity to move forward that wouldn’t have her running directly into an oncoming projectile, if anything were to go wrong. When she found that opportunity, she took it, urging Kirlothden forward.
They charged up the pass, the cry of the Phoenix piercing the incessant clamor of rocks colliding against one another. Directly over her head, the protection of two gods shone, just as it had when the dragon arrived beneath the city. It bolstered her confidence further, as well as Kirlothden’s. His strong legs carried them quickly to the top.
It was there where she looked up and saw no blue other than the sky. A shadow fell over her and she ducked her head low, directing Kirlothden quickly to the side. The boulder crashed upon the floor of the pass behind them. She pressed to the exit, moving to the side of it, then turning to look behind her, back down the corridor.
The dome had retracted. Xu Liang was casting spells to redirect the stones. Fearful that he might have been tiring, Shirisae quickly scanned the top of the pass. It flattened, leaving no overhanging area where the r
ocks might have been coming from. She looked for Han Quan instead, distracted momentarily by a shadow swelling on the ground at the top of the pass. Looking up, she saw a rock literally spinning itself out of the air. Dust and particles of the earth were swirling toward it as it formed.
Shirisae broke it apart with Firestorm while it was yet somewhat small, then continued to look for the geomancer responsible. She found him perched upon a shelf of rock that was set distant from the pass’ opening. He stood as still as a statue—a monument to betrayal—his hands held in front of him, moving in a slowly repeating pattern.
Another boulder was forming. Shirisae lifted the Storm Blade and thrust it in Han Quan’s direction. The magic bolted off the Blade’s edge, burning through the air toward its target. It swiftly found the geomancer’s soulless body and snaked around it, jolting it from its patterned motions, and sending it to the ground.
The rock that was forming grew no larger and simply dropped, tumbling downward. Shirisae looked to see that it would be dealt with, then directed Kirlothden toward the fallen geomancer.
Han Quan lay still, a line of blood staining the earth beneath his head, evidencing that he had struck his head. If Firestorm had not finished him, then the fall surely had. The betrayer was dead.
The Fete of Summer
THE DEFEAT OF Han Quan and his troops at the Gai Xo Plains facilitated a further march into Xun. The forces under the White Tiger General were met at Bei Xo. With no support in reach from Tzu while their troops were being held at bay by the efforts of the Iron Horse General, Ha Ming Jin surrendered. Bei Xo was taken, and occupied by Ji. The dance of the Crane was over, and the Tiger’s tail was tucked. The Green Dragon had been mollified, and the Peacock was retired to the northern mountains. The Blue Dragon had shown its speed and might, and for now had enforced order, for the sake of peace.
While the cursed lot remained, the curse itself appeared to have gone dormant. Those afflicted with mysterious illness began to recover, eventually flourishing as the plant life had begun to do months before.
The Empress was well again, and while her opponents had not all been defeated, she had pressed her authority. Sheng Fan would not become a separation of kingdoms, but remain an empire. The Five Kingdoms Resolution would go under immediate review for amendment. Possibly, it would be abolished.
Xu Liang would consider that a victory above many others.
It was nearing the end of summer when Cai Zheng Rui returned to the Imperial City. He reported that Ma Shou had disappeared, though he could not say how. He had observed him for months, showing no focus or strength to do much more than occupy the bed the masters had given him. Cai Zheng Rui claimed to have gone immediately in search of Ma Shou, but there was no trace of him anywhere at the school or along the road. The pyromancer had mysteriously vanished.
Xu Liang could easily consider the ways in which Ma Shou might have gone, if his intent was to leave the mortal world altogether, but he decided not to dwell on such thoughts. It was better to consider him living, just as before, since Ma Shou had demonstrated a strong will to survive.
Though the puzzle of the necromancer had not been satisfactorily resolved, the time for toiling over death was at an end, at least for now. There were other matters to attend to; matters which had to do with life and which would be held in the spirit of living.
“WHAT DID I TELL YOU?” Tarfan said, tolerating his Fanese clothes for the first time since he’d arrived in Sheng Fan. “Kings and queens…typical company for a dwarf of my range.”
“Since when has the range of a dwarf exceeded nine hands?” Alere murmured from his position before an excessively decorated column within the Hall of Heavenly Peace.
Tarfan took offense, but apparently didn’t want to rumple his robes, so sufficed to make a tense face in Alere’s direction.
Tristus smiled, looking over at Alere, who was layered in silver, white and purple—the purple used only beneath the paler tones in order to accent against his complexion. The elf’s hair was brushed down, losing part of the tiger pattern of his robes in snow. He was very handsome, standing out as he did among throngs of colors that were…darker, Tristus decided. He couldn’t say more vibrant, as Alere possessed his own vibrancy that was completely unique to him. And he couldn’t say bolder, because there quite plainly could be nothing bolder in all Dryth than an elf.
When Alere noticed him admiring, he looked across. And once again, he’d taken to smiling back at Tristus. The separation between all of them had proved temporary. And now the union between two of them was to be binding.
The hall was bedecked in so much splendor, all of it dedicated to the Fanese celebration of nature that never seemed to cease. The hall was overfilled with as many people as could fit within its walls, and outside of them. Beyond the Gate of Eternal Balance, residents of the People’s City had been gathered since the evening before the day’s event. It was to be the event of the summer; the marriage of the Imperial Tactician and what may have been the Empire’s first recognized female hero.
For days, their friends had been sequestered from nearly everyone; Xu Liang housed in the Hall of Summer that flanked the Hall of Heavenly Peace on its west side, and Shirisae in the Hall of Spring. It was to be a symbolic merger of the Sun God and the Moon Goddess, the event upon which their entire year was based. While Tristus felt both joyed and melancholy over the arrangement, he was beginning to feel an overtaking anticipation about the simple fact that he had seen neither Xu Liang nor Shirisae for far too long. Their reunion after the battles ended and the troops made their ways back had been brief and filled with meeting after meeting just to establish the fact that the battling itself was over, and only for now.
Whatever lay ahead, Tristus decided that he would look forward to it.
“Well,” he said to Alere, “If nothing else beyond slaying a dragon, winning one part of a larger war, and seeing two friends marry was accomplished with bringing the Blades together, then so be it.”
“You speak as if that isn’t enough,” Tarfan replied, smoothing his hand over his currently ordered hair—it may never have been brushed before that morning, Tristus determined.
“It will be enough when the shadows are gone from this world,” Alere put in.
Before Tristus could say anything more, Taya made her way over to them, pushing frantically through the forms of taller people, who all looked after the fact, as if it were merely another child racing about.
“The carriage is coming,” she told Tristus excitedly.
That meant that Shirisae had been brought from the Hall of Spring, which also meant that Xu Liang…
Tristus looked toward the north end of the hall, where an area had been pristinely framed for the parties that would be required for the day’s ceremony. A throne rested high above a dais flanked by statues of Cheng Yu and Mei Qiao. Mounted before each one were the Sun Blade and the Moon Blade. While Shirisae’s Blade was not a required part of the ceremony, Tristus believed the gentle glow of Pearl Moon would suit her well for today.
At the base of the throne, centered on the dais, Huang Shang-san—draped in splendorous layers of blue and gold—prepared various articles necessary for the ritual aspect, which included incense and the placement of intricately decorated cups.
Tristus would have been more interested in that, if only to compare it to religious ceremony back in Andaria, except that he was looking for the groom.
It was Alere who spotted him first, and nodded toward a glimpse of golden yellow silk just behind a column and amid several bodies.
Tristus moved around Tarfan, noticing after the fact that Taya was clinging to his sleeve while she followed closely after him. He freed his arm and placed his hand at her shoulder instead, and they both watched as Xu Liang was finally led out into the open by a flock of attendants, which included all of his guards and Guang Ci.
Opening his mouth to speak, Tristus found words to be absent. Xu Liang appeared ethereal, draped in layer upon layer of deeply warm
yellow silk patterned with images of suns and edged with red. His long black hair painted a path down to the floor, though it looked as though it had been recently trimmed—the edges were quite straight. Upon his head was a crown of sorts—a headdress that was more vertical than the styles the Empress wore—draped with short strands of glistening beads. The colors of the costume were well removed from the cooler tones Tristus was used to seeing him in. It made all of him appear warmer, which may have been the purpose.
Taya tugged at his shirt, and he was forced to take his eyes from Xu Liang, though he didn’t do so in a rush. It wasn’t until Taya jammed her little fist against his leg, that, he relinquished his view of Xu Liang’s beauty to look upon that of Shirisae.
She was led by twice as many handmaidens as Xu Liang had attendants, and all of them were draped in shades of silvery blue to match Shirisae’s layers. If it were in question whether or not she was a goddess, Tristus could have been convinced of her divinity in that very moment, even against everything that he yet held onto. Her red, red hair was bound in several loops, eventually forming a braid down her back, which rested upon the top sheer layers of her robe-like gown so starkly and colorfully that it almost could have been taken for a ribbon. A pattern of moons covered the base of her costume while the top layers glittered as if to include the stars. Her face was painted, accentuating aspects of her features that Tristus might not have noticed before. Set amid her artistically knotted hair was a headdress more akin to the Empress’; wrought silver encrusted with various stones set to look like leaves and flowers, which were a bed for the moon shape of the central piece. Earrings in the shapes of flowers dangled nearly down to her shoulders.
When the elven bride was brought to the dais, she stood across from Xu Liang, and the both of them were among the more astonishing visions Tristus had ever beheld.
The Empress arrived last, her robes in the blues and yellows of the Minister of Ceremony, but so splendorous, one might think that she was the bride, had Shirisae not already arrived in the role. Song Da-Xiao was carried the length of the hall by sedan chair, and when she arrived at the dais, Huang Shang-san performed a ritual over her—blessing her, Tristus assumed.
