Five Kingdoms (38 page)

“A spell?” Jiao Ren inquired, seeking confirmation. When Xu Liang nodded, the young general looked to the wall the fire had come through with understanding in his eyes. His next question differed from the one Xu Liang had asked himself. “Whose?”

It was an equally worthwhile question.

“We shall find out,” Xu Liang assured him. To the others, he said, “This may not be a task for the Swords after all. At least, not at this time. Please, forgive my bringing you here at such an hour and with such danger present.”

Guang Ci paid the formality only a customary bow of acknowledgment, perhaps because he could not decipher the words, only the tone.

It was Tarfan who elected to speak on behalf of the rest of them. Placing a heavy hand on Xu Liang’s arm, the dwarf said, “Lad, if danger has a mouth, let it open wide and bellow in all of our faces. We’re with you, even at the risk of being swallowed.”

“Be it oddly stated, I hold that statement true,” Tristus said with an expression hovering between mild amusement and milder dismay.

“I find it beyond the point of needing to be stated,” Alere put in while Taya and Shirisae maintained a silent air of agreement.

Xu Liang bowed his head in response to and with appreciation for them all. In the passing of their words, the Blades shared their own sentiments, the light of each reaching out for the one nearest it. The demonstration was enough for Jiao Ren to notice while he stood in the middle of the Swords and their bearers. He looked upon Xu Liang—much to Xu Liang’s relief—with an air of reverence, and perhaps of acceptance for what was to come.

Xu Liang did
not return to his home that night to sleep, but to study. He looked upon the design plans of the temple—brought to him from the archives at the Hall of Literary Profundity—and mapped a version for himself on a separate parchment. Upon his copy, he detailed the plans that would require a small force with which to infiltrate the Jade Hall. The spells in place were as traps, only less tangible, which made it more difficult to negate. It would not be impossible, however. With a phalanx of armored men with shields, a path would be created for himself and a handful of others to pass through the corridors unharmed. He would take Jiao Ren and three of his own guards. The soldiers fortifying the route would not be harmed if the fire from the inner sanctum continued to only attack in brief intervals, and with a carefully laid wind spell that would redirect the flame itself, leaving the men with only conflicting blasts of hot air to contend with. The tremors were likely the effect of a second spell laid by whomever was interfering with the temple, and those had not been enough to throw even the dwarves from their feet. It was possible that the quakes might increase in force with bodies lingering in the passage, as well as making progress toward the center. Xu Liang would have the soldiers kneel behind their shields once he and the others had safely passed, that they might better maintain their balance.

Use of the elements of fire and earth suggested the involvement of both a pyromancer and a geomancer. It was possible that Ma Shou had been paid, or had simply been inclined, to set the fire spell before pursuing Xu Liang to the western realm—perhaps he had been someone’s guest. He would have been able to maintain the spell through meditation, though that surely had been broken by now, considering his likely fate at the Tunghui. Even so, it was also possible that another mystic had transferred the spell to himself before that event, which meant that there might well have now been a geomancer responsible for the continued presence of both spells. It would be taxing for Xu Liang to attempt to transfer the spells to himself and to then conclude them. He felt misgivings, however, about enlisting the aid of a fellow mystic before uncovering the one who was responsible and felt confident that he could perform the task alone. In order to ensure that he could do so, he would meditate rather than sleep. For the sake of the Empress and the Imperial City, he would show his nightmares no further fear.

With that determination, he placed his brush down and rose from the desk. He left his office and proceeded to the garden, which—apart from the past safety of the temple—had been a preferred place for him to meditate. Upon passing into the cool night air, he detected a presence. It was not Tristus this time, but Alere.

The elf was sat upon the grass, looking up at the starlight. Xu Liang traced his gaze upward, admitting that it was a remarkably fair sky and worthy of notice. Still, he felt that Alere’s timing was not incidental.

“The timeless dance of the Celestial Dragons,” he said of the stars while he took steps toward the bearer of the Twilight Blade. And then, as he recalled the elf’s belief’s, he added, “Or the sparkling veil of your mother goddess.”

Alere looked at him and said nothing. He seemed not to be in a mood for conversations of gods now.

Xu Liang sat down beside the elf, facing him. He recalled that the last time Alere had looked upon him with such silence, it was while he formulated a critique. This time, Xu Liang decided not to presume what concerned his ally. “What troubles you?”

“Many things,” Alere replied candidly. “But they are not all topics I would seek to trouble you with.”

“And the ones that are?” Xu Liang prompted.

Alere surprised him by saying, “I cannot bring myself to care for Shirisae.”

The information itself was not necessarily what surprised him, nor how bluntly he had stated it. Rather, it was that he had elected to speak of the matter at all.

Xu Liang looked upon Alere’s pale features. The implacable stillness of his demeanor rendered any approach an uncertain affair. If there was anything Xu Liang had learned about the Verressi elf in their time together, it was that. Worse was the manner in which Alere set a topic down, as if all facets of it were clear and self-evident, and if one failed to see that—and to see it quickly—then he might withdraw the topic altogether. It seemed that way, but Xu Liang felt confident that it was in actuality Alere’s discomfort with having shared at all that would have him draw away if there was a lack of comprehension, or a lingering silence from his audience. For that reason, Xu Liang knew that he should cherish these moments.

“You cannot forgive her people for the neglect you believe they paid yours,” he said, recalling that Alere had stated as much on more than one occasion.

“I cannot,” Alere replied. “She carries no remorse and offers little dignity to those she and her people have deemed merely victims. It’s discouraging, that a future leader of a people should be so aloof.”

Xu Liang nodded, understanding. It was more than assigned duty or acknowledgment of the Mandate that inspired his devotion to the Song, and to his empress; it was admiration and love, both of which had been earned. If Song Da-Xiao were a careless or cruel leader, his service would weigh differently in his heart and perhaps he would have been persuaded by others in the interest of Sheng Fan. But the Empress cared for her people, and for the land. Xu Liang suspected that if Shirisae did not also care for her people, she would not have come to Sheng Fan.

But that was not the trouble for Alere. The trouble was that she did not seem to care for
his
people.

“It is important to hold on to the past,” Xu Liang said, drawing his answer as one sifting through sand. He looked only for the pieces of value, and let the rest fall away. “We must cherish the moments of glory, and we must seek to learn from the moments of failure. If, in studying our failures, we believe that we have learned to distrust and to despise, then we must take up a new study. Gardens planted in bitter soil are sure to fail.”

Alere looked up at the sky once again. He gave no indication of whether or not he was affected by the words. And then he said, “I’m reminded of the bog surrounding Vorhaven’s manor.”

“What of it?” Xu Liang asked with interest.

“The presence of the keirveshen had spoiled the land,” the elf replied. “And it was Vorhaven’s bitterness which spoiled him…and all that he touched.”

Xu Liang believed that he understood what Alere was conveying. He didn’t know why that inspired him to reach his hand out to the elf, but he did not question nor did he attempt to retract the action.

Alere looked at Xu Liang, then at the hand he offered.

The sureness of the moment started to drift away. Xu Liang began to see how much—in spite of all they had experienced as a group—they had failed to connect with one another. His hand started to close.

It was then that Alere took hold of it with his own. The contact was warm and surprisingly not abrasive—as his sensitivities had come to regard most contact. It filled Xu Liang with a sense of brotherhood that he had been lacking for some years now, and which in the past had been brought to ruin by elements he could not resolve or control. Those marked some of his greatest failings. He was determined that the union of the Swords would not be among them.

“I will not abandon any of you,” he said to Alere, because he suddenly felt that it needed to be said to someone. “It is my hope that none of us will abandon each other. There has been too much of that in this world—this world that we all share.”

“It is my belief that you will never part from what you believe in,” Alere said. “It has kindled a hope in me that you will continue to believe in us, even more than you believe in the Swords.”

It was true, that at one time Xu Liang might have considered such a sentiment preposterous. He had put all of his faith for Sheng Fan—apart from the Empress—in the Blades granted to them by the gods. He also believed at one time that they were primarily meant for Sheng Fan, before his own perspective on the worth of a world had expanded. There were still moments, however, when his inbuilt sense of superiority as a son of Sheng Fan rose to overtake his humility as a child of the Master. The Jade Emperor had not made a country, or even an Empire; he had made a world. All of the inhabitants of Dryth were siblings to one another, and all of them were equally threatened by Chaos.

Xu Liang lifted his other hand, and placed it with Alere’s as well. “We struggle to maintain our identities and our sovereignties within a nation,” he said. “In doing so, we often exclude dignity and respect toward others. It may seem especially so, here in Sheng Fan. It is my hope that by unifying the land once again, a sense of security will be reestablished, and perhaps with it a sense of wonder about our neighbors.”

“Elves are also guilty of attempting to exist in seclusion,” Alere admitted. “I understand that, in part, that’s why there was no one willing to come to our aid. We assumed in the mountains that, among elves, it would be different…that our common understanding of each other and a sense of kinship might bring others. It did not.”

“I understand,” Xu Liang said, and gradually, their hands slipped apart. “It would be as one of the five kingdoms refusing to come to the aid of another. Unfortunately, we’ve come to that. Worse, we’ve been fighting amongst ourselves.”

“I will help you to help your people,” Alere pledged. “Even if it brings no solace to the ghosts of my own.”

Xu Liang bowed his head with a renewed sense of appreciation for the elf. Thinking back on the white tiger. Having observed it so closely—observing the beast and Alere watching each other across the snow—it had become evident to Xu Liang in those moments that the two might have recognized some kinship in one another. It was the first time that Xu Liang had witnessed Alere display a sense of kinship with anything outside of his memories of his family. To have that kinship extended onto himself now, Xu Liang felt that he also had been blessed.

“You will know glory in this land,” he said to Alere, and it made him feel somehow stronger. Perhaps because it had given him a view of the future outside of the turmoil and suffering he knew Sheng Fan and the Empress were faced with, and that view was of success. Alere Shaederin would become the herald of the White Tiger’s blessing, and Xu Liang would do all within his power to shield his path.