by T. A. Miles
On the deck of the Pride of Celestia, Xu Liang was led abaft, where he found Captain Yvain standing at the railing, looking out at a sea blanketed with low-lying clouds. She glanced back at Xu Liang as he arrived and motioned him closer. Fu Ran stayed back.
“I apologize if I disrupted your meditation, Master Xu,” the captain said. “But I’ve got a splinter in my mind and I think you just might be able to remove it.”
Xu Liang decided not to mention the scuffle below decks between one of her men and all eight of his. He said cooperatively, “How may I help?”
With her eyes on the fog behind her ship, Yvain said, “Fu Ran tells me you’re more than just an official of Sheng Fan’s court. He mentioned to me that you’re a sorcerer. Is that true?”
“I have studied magic for many years,” Xu Liang admitted. “I have acquired an adequate understanding of it.”
The Aeran woman smiled without looking at him. “Is there any way you can see through that fog?”
Xu Liang closed his eyes. “What should I be looking for?”
“These clouds settled in three days ago, just after a lookout spotted another ship in the area. No one’s seen anything since. I thought we’d try looking at it from a fresh perspective, if you catch my meaning.”
“Give me a moment,” Xu Liang replied, and he began pulling in the unseen details of the air and the water around them. He opened his eyes more quickly than he expected, jostled from his scan by the passage of a very large presence. Not another ship in the fog, but a...
“Dragon!” came a voice from above.
All eyes went skyward, except for Xu Liang’s. Before the lookout in the crow’s nest reiterated, he knew what the man would say. “Serpent! Beneath the ship!”
Yvain cursed in her own language and began barking commands at her crew, at once distracted from the mysterious patch of fog.
Xu Liang discerned enough words to understand that the Aerans had encountered a sea dragon before and knew how to defend the ship against their unpredictable nature. That surprised him. Dragons, as a race, were often reclusive creatures, phantoms of the ancient past that haunted more stories than populated areas. Xu Liang had never seen one before—of land or sea—outside of artistic interpretation. He found himself curious and fearful, fearful for the dragon, even as it slid beneath the Pride of Celestia and rocked it severely.
Fu Ran rested his hand on Xu Liang’s shoulder as Xu Liang took hold of the railing. “It might be safer for you below decks. These beasts can make for some pretty rough seas when they pass...and when they don’t.”
Xu Liang shook his head. “Thank you for your concern, but I might be of some assistance up here.”
“Dragons are resilient against magic,” Fu ran informed urgently.
Xu Liang shelved the new information at the back of his mind, and then said, “Perhaps, Fu Ran, but ships generally are not.” The big man looked confused until Xu Liang added, “Please inform your captain that I intend to conjure a southeastern wind. We will evade both the dragon and the ship in pursuit at the same time.”
Fu Ran looked down into the water, then out to sea, and back at Xu Liang. He gave a crooked smile before jogging across the deck toward Yvain. He passed eight familiar men, who had clearly felt the assault on the ship and responded in the only way ingrained upon them. Without acknowledging his guards, Xu Liang positioned himself for prayer.
FROM THE HIGH deck of the Jade Carp, Xiadao Lu glowered at the clouded sea ahead of them. Surprisingly, it was not as easy to track a man on water as it was on land. Nothing but open space with nowhere to hide…and yet it had taken several days to finally catch sight of the barbarian ship that had swept Xu Liang away from Sheng Fan. The mystic’s destination was a mystery, but Xiadao Lu had sworn to his lord that he would not reach it. His fist tightened unconsciously as his thoughts darkened.
I shall not fail.
A whiff of foulness suddenly assailed the warrior’s nostrils. His expression lightened with amusement. He’d only come across the odor once before, along the Chang River near his boyhood home. He watched a magnificent beast rise from the water then, as mighty and splendorous to behold as the legends told. It was as looking upon a god and to this day, Xiadao Lu wondered what had inspired the creature to show itself. His grandmother had told him that it was the spirit of one of their ancestors speaking to him and, out of respect, Xiadao Lu immediately began wearing colors to match the beast’s scales. He believed that the gesture brought the dragon’s luck upon him and gave him an advantage over his enemies. He welcomed a second encounter with such a creature, and that reflected in his tone when he said, “I smell a dragon!”
In his voice that was either incessantly bored or incessantly mocking, Ma Shou said, “And all this time I’ve been crediting that stink to the ‘captain’ of this vessel. It’s a pity that pirates are the only men willing to take to sea upon a moment’s notice.”
“Better pirates than barbarians,” Xiadao Lu answered. Then he glanced over his shoulder at the sorcerer sitting cross-legged on the deck floor. “Tell me what you see through this mist of yours.”
“The barbarian ship remains on a western course. They don’t seem suspicious. Of course, that’s too good to be true.”
Xiadao Lu agreed. “Xu Liang knows. He can be fooled, but he is no fool. We were able to surprise him at the Tunghui River and at Ti Lao, but as you have seen, he does not live on his guard because he does not have to. Luck is with him.”
“A greater luck than your dragon ancestor?” Ma Shou wondered aloud, and if Xiadao Lu had known for certain that he was mocking, he’d have struck the sorcerer down in the very instant. Forgiving the man his strangeness and recalling that he was also useful, Xiadao Lu let him be.
“He has charm perhaps,” Ma Shou added. “And a great deal of it, but charm and luck do not always go hand-in-hand. Take away the charm of the Empress and the charm of Sheng Fan and you are left with what the barbarians will see.”
“What do you mean?” Xiadao Lu wanted to know. He disliked the sorcerer’s cryptic manner of speech.
Ma Shou sighed. “A man without his fame, in the eyes of an ignorant stranger, is nothing more than a man. Among strangers, one must earn his allies.”
“Or buy them,” someone added.
Xiadao Lu watched the captain of the Jade Carp make his way up the wide stairs of the high deck. He was a wiry man but solid. Xiadao Lu did not doubt that he knew how to use the sword slung at his belt.
A crooked smile captured the pirate’s lips. “Don’t worry. Your money wasn’t wasted. Let us catch the ship you’re following and I’ll prove it to you.”
Xiadao Lu laughed welcomingly at the man’s enthusiasm and confidence. “I’ve heard the rumors about you, Zhen Yu.”
“The rumors don’t do me justice.”
“You’ll get your chance,” Xiadao Lu assured. His features gradually firmed and he added, “When you do just remember one thing. I will destroy Xu Liang myself.”
Zhen Yu nodded, but his lopsided smile remained. Xiadao Lu didn’t trust the captain, but for now he had his purpose, just as the sorcerer did.
“The wind has shifted,” Ma Shou informed suddenly.
Zhen Yu lifted his face to the sky. “Yes. Now it’s southeastern.” He frowned. “It feels southeastern, but we’re still moving due west, at the same pace.”
“So is our fog,” Ma Shou added.
Xiadao Lu glowered. “Xu Liang!” He turned toward his own sorcerer. “Ma Shou, can you compensate?”
The other closed his eyes and placed his hands together. “Of course,” he mumbled. “But I will need time to meditate. Wind is not my area of expertise and conjuring this fog has required much of my attention. We will lose them for a brief span.”
“Unnatural fog, phantom winds that defy the true wind...” Zhen Yu shook his head. “I’ll advise you mystics to be cautious. Nature doesn’t like to be toyed with.”
“Neither do I,” Xiadao Lu snapped. “We will catch t
hat ship and we will kill everyone onboard!” He nodded to Ma Shou. “I leave it to you, sorcerer”
Ma Shou fell utterly still.
Zhen Yu watched him for a moment, then said, “And what about the dragon? There are more of them out at sea than on land. More that are seen by men, at least. They can be dangerous.”
Xiadao Lu turned to face the sea with confidence. “Dragons are messengers,” he decided. “Be it good or ill, this one will deliver us our fate this day.”
FU RAN TOOK up a long spear as it was issued to him. He felt the ship moving as the steersman directed the Pride of Celestia into Xu Liang’s wind. They were moving much quicker than before, but not nearly quick enough to outrun a dragon if it meant to catch them. Fu Ran glanced toward his former lord and saw the eight armored men surrounding him.
Idiots! You can’t defend him from a dragon or the waves it’ll stir! We have the wind. You should be hauling him below decks.
They didn’t and, of course, they wouldn’t. They were too accustomed to ‘duty’, too inured in their station beneath their master. They didn’t dare to touch him. It never occurred to them that they could be protecting a friend and sometimes friends had to be handled roughly in order to be kept safe. But that was the trouble with life in Sheng Fan; ‘a place for everyone, and everyone in their place’. Those who existed outside of the system designated long ago by the very first emperor Sheng Fan had ever known were considered rogues, bandits, pirates, and worst of all, barbarians. Barbarians worst of all because they could never fit into the system, even if they wanted to. They were uncivilized, sharing the scruples of wild beasts, cruel and without virtue. Fu Ran was a son of Sheng Fan. He could go back if he wanted to and restore his ‘honor’. He wouldn’t, not even for a friend.
The ship swayed. A finned spine crested above the water, above the railing of the ship, momentarily shadowing the deck before the beast descended again and sent a minor wave crashing down on it. The brine-smelling water rushed beneath Fu Ran’s feet and tried to pull them out from under him. He maintained his balance and, with a glance, saw that the wave didn’t quite reach the stern, where Xu Liang remained in his meditative stance. Perhaps the wind would die too quickly if he stopped. Still, Fu Ran couldn’t help worrying that he would look back after the next wave and find that the mystic had been swept away.
“NOT YET!” YVAIN hollered to her crew from the helm. The beast rose again as it undulated through the sea, showing more of its lustrous scales this time, gleaming green and gold in the sunlight directly overhead. The strange fog was slowly falling behind them, along with whomever it concealed. The dragon stayed with them, more playfully than persistently. Dragons seemed more curious than malicious. However, their curiosity—because of their size—often proved deadly to sailors. Time would tell the outcome of this encounter.
Yvain’s gaze flitted toward the sorcerer aboard her ship, who’d maintained the presence of a specter throughout the journey thus far. Everyone knew he was there, but the days had gone by without so much as a glimpse of him as he holed himself in the tiny guest cabin and proceeded to pray.
As Yvain understood it, the Fanese people held their gods and ancestors in the same respect, believing that many of the gods began life as ordinary humans who, through leading extraordinary lives, were later deified. It was not that way in Aer. To the Aerans, heaven was known as Celestia and the ‘People of the Stars’ governed the lives beneath them. Sometimes they elected to show themselves through the eyes of mortals—one such as Yvain, whose eyes were considered several shades too brilliant to be anything but Celestian. It granted her no special talents, nor any powers—so far as she could tell—but many attributed her strong leadership skills to the star who’d given her its grace. She was the second child of her bloodline to have such eyes, a bloodline that was not purely Aeran, but crossed through an unprecedented marriage between her Aeran great-grandmother and a Neidran man.
In Neidra—the sweltering green land to the southwest of Sheng Fan—people believed in multiple gods and also worshipped their ancestors, the greatest of whom supposedly went to live among those deities after death. Yvain respected all religions and thus believed that whomever or whatever Xu Liang prayed to was listening and answering. His ‘wind god’, if such were the case, may turn out to be the salvation of her crew this day, and of the dragon, who she did not wish to harm.
The beast rose and flashed its glistening scales again. The sheen was so bright as the sunlight played off the dragon’s iridescent hide that Yvain had to close her eyes. At that precise moment she experienced a vision so sudden and so vivid that it was as if she hadn’t shielded her eyes at all from the blinding splendor of the dragon. She saw the sun rise over a cold, barren landscape. The trees were as skeletal fingers, grasping for the unreachable warmth. The land they were rooted in was as broken, unhealed skin, shrouded in an ill mist. A human figure stood alone, a silhouette against the red-orange brilliance of the ascending sun. Man or woman, child or elder, Yvain could not tell, but the sight of the individual made her instantly sad. There were tears in her eyes when she opened them again.
The dragon was gone.
The crew relaxed slowly, hesitant to release the collective breath everyone had been holding until they were certain the beast had returned to the depths of the ocean.
Fu Ran joined Yvain at the helm. The Fanese giant laughed, but he couldn’t conceal his relief. “Maybe we should consider keeping a sorcerer onboard for moments like that.”
Yvain’s moist eyes traveled past Fu Ran and stopped once again at Xu Liang. He was still in prayer, oblivious to the dragon’s departure. “I want to talk to him when he’s finished. Send him to my cabin.”
Fu Ran’s smile left him and he nodded once. Yvain realized then that her tone might have been unduly abrupt, but she did not make amends. She left the helm, determined not to let anyone see Yvain of the Pride of Celestia in tears.
THE DAY HAD nearly gone when Xu Liang felt a safe distance had been put between the Aeran vessel and the Fanese ship in pursuit. The dragon had been no real threat and left of its own volition. Or so it would seem.
A conference with Yvain revealed that the dragon may have had a purpose in its appearance after all. Xu Liang was not about to question the captain’s claim, not openly or privately. He saw no reason for her to lie. She seemed quite sane and, though it wasn’t readily apparent to look at her, he understood by talking to Yvain that she was a deeply spiritual woman. Her experience had been real, whether or not anyone else could feel or understand it. Xu Liang did feel the vision somewhat himself as she related it to him, sparing no detail, not even the tears that rimmed her spectacularly green eyes. It was in evidence that she’d intended to overlook that part of her story when she began hastily wiping at the moisture that was renewed with the telling.
Xu Liang stood in the middle of her large cabin, observing her respectfully as she sat at a modest table beneath the room’s only window. He had listened and thus far not spoken.
When it became clear that Yvain had nothing more to say, he selected his words carefully. “Dragons are ancient creatures,” he said. “Not only as a race, but as individuals as well. They are among the oldest sentient beings known to the world and they are very wise. Their wisdom inspires us and sometimes enables us to see what we would otherwise have spent our entire lives blind to.”
Yvain issued a weakly cynical smile. “That’s very touching, and very diplomatic.” Her gaze wandered out the window. “However...”
“However?” Xu Liang prompted.
She glanced at him, then said to the sea, “I don’t think it was the dragon. I think it’s hereditary.”
In that moment, Xu Liang felt like an eavesdropper on words that may have been somehow intended to be private. He did not allow that to delay his response for long. “How so?”
“My great-grandfather used to have visions,” Yvain replied after a pause. “Anything could trigger them. A word, a touch, a flower kissed by a summer b
reeze...anything. He kept record of them in his poetry. I’ve been told that I have his eyes.”
“And you are only now learning that you have his ‘sight’,” Xu Liang presumed.
Yvain looked at him and slowly nodded. “I’ve never dreamed so vividly while I was awake as I did when I saw that dragon.”
Xu Liang decided not to mention his own visions, as they were a practiced craft, certainly not an inherited clairvoyance. In a meditative state he could extend his senses beyond his physical self. He could detect things that way, but he could not foresee events.
“I wanted to tell you,” Yvain added, “because I don’t think the vision pertained to me beyond my experiencing it. My ship is going to dock in Nelayne, a port city which doesn’t look anything like the terrain I saw in the vision. We’ll spend a few days there at most, conducting our business. And then we’ll head back out to sea. Unless you plan to tour the northern trade routes, you’ll be traveling the land. There are regions like what I saw along the edges of Callipry, toward Lower Yvaria and into Andaria. I don’t know what any of what I saw means, but maybe you will, if you see it.”
Xu Liang understood, and inclined his head respectfully. “I thank you.”
Yvain waved the words away. “Don’t. I’ve yet to deliver you safely to your destination. Sharing eerie visions isn’t part of the contract, Master Xu Liang.” He smiled and she stood. “However, answering a few questions for me was part of our original bargain, if I recall correctly.”
