Five Kingdoms (41 page)

Aerkiren
tapped gently against the floor, and it was with that sound that Alere presumed the sword’s ability to negate enchantment had prevailed. He looked to Xu Liang, who seemed to be contemplating the sound’s merit against the passageway’s current stillness.

“You don’t believe that it worked,” Alere said without knowing. He was merely guessing based upon the mystic’s silence.

Xu Liang shook his head. “If it has worked, then it supports the possible guilt of someone I’ve trusted.”

Alere looked toward the faint green tracings that lined the corridor. In the corner of his vision, he noticed Jiao Ren start forward, and Xu Liang extend his arm to stop the man. The mystic lifted his other arm afterward and tossed a pebble into the passage.

The three of them stood witness to the small stone’s brief flight, which ended in several audible jumps across the floor before it slid to an unseen stopping place. The sound of the pebble against the floor suggested that there was no longer an enchantment interfering with the temple’s natural properties. Also, the stone was not enough to set off the fire, which seemed to indicate that the source was a being able to discern the difference between a stone and a living body. Or it was a spell, as Xu Liang deduced, but one which could not be triggered by small sounds or movements.

Jiao Ren said something to Xu Liang, which received an answer. Immediately following their exchange, the mystic said to Alere, “Let us proceed carefully. Thus far, the fire has provided ample warning before it enters.”

Alere nodded.

Xu Liang drew the Moon Blade and they moved forward slowly. Their movement was not to be hindered by fire this time.

Alere wondered if the trap was in some way sensitive to the hour, if an enchantment of this nature might be cast to such specifications. He felt it unlikely. Perhaps whomever had set the enchantment was aware of their investigation and had somehow called the magic back in order to confuse them.

Xu Liang and Jiao Ren were engaged in discussion, so Alere did not vocalize his considerations. Instead, he paid specific attention to the carved stone partition, peering past its aesthetic curves and a pattern that suggested movement. The previous night, he had been focusing on the same attributes of the wall and had envisioned movement then as well. It could seem as if the wall itself were moving, but it would be likelier that someone or something on the other side had passed through the shadows instead. It may have been the enchantment’s owner, forming an illusion with his shadow or his magic, or it may have been a dragon. Though, Alere suspected that if a creature of such size were nesting in the inner sanctum, it would be easier noticed.

He recalled Xu Liang’s claim to have heard the heartbeat. The mystic may have dreamed it, but it was evident that he put significance onto dreams. To him, they may have been visions of reality, since he’d likely been sleeping with the gods—or at least one of them—since his resurrection. Alere had seen the manifestation of the Phoenix when last they were in the temple. He had seen it appearing to unite with the magic of
Pearl Moon
, as it may have once done with the magic of
Firestorm
. Alere would not presume to know what that meant, but he suspected it was nothing Xu Liang had any forewarning of. It was nothing that had been presented to Tristus, or to any of them, at the time Shirisae offered the magic of her people. It may have been that the Phoenix Elves had deceived Xu Liang—and all of them—through omission of the truth of resurrection by their god. That possibility could not endear Shirisae or the elves of Vilciel to him. And now it may have been that two of their company had been infused with the essence—or the outright presence—of a god, and, under the circumstances, the Phoenix may have been far deadlier than Ilnon.

At the center of the Temple of Divine Tranquility was a dais mounted at each of its four corners by a statue of a lion holding a sphere. The lions faced the auspicious directions, glaring outside of the dais. The raised floor they guarded was home to an enormous circular pedestal wrapped by the carved form of the Blue Dragon of Ji. Its scales shimmered in the light of the braziers, as did the statue of Song Dai and the spear that the first Song Emperor held.

Xu Liang stopped at the base of the dais and looked upon the impressive visage of Song Da-Xiao’s grandfather gripping the Blade he had recovered for the Empire, which cast a light of its own. The fiery yellow of the sun competed with the contained fires surrounding it, an illusion of growing flames licking the air, reaching toward the two Blades currently in its presence.

“The fire could not have been coming from that,” Alere said, his tone questioning.

“The Swords cannot be brought against one another,” Xu Liang reminded, which appeared to be all the confirmation the elf wanted; Alere nodded before the words had even finished forming. Looking to Jiao Ren, Xu Liang asked, “When was this brought back here?”

Jiao Ren did not seem surprised by the discovery. “The Chancellor and I returned it on the Empress’ orders.” The young general looked at him. “After the spell between both of you was broken.”

“It will be returned to the Hall of Heavenly Peace,” Xu Liang decided.

“The Empress…”

“I intend to bring it before the Empress, Jiao Ren,” Xu Liang told him. “Along with the other Swords. I intend to do so at once.”

“My lord,” Jiao Ren complied. He stepped toward the statue of Song Dai.

And that was when the mouth of the dragon on the pedestal began to glow. Xu Liang reached for the younger man’s arm, and with his free hand raised the Moon Blade in the very moment the dragon statue released a powerful breath of flame. It impacted the dome and flared around and over it as if the statue were a living beast.

“It’s as if the dragon is protecting the spear,” Jiao Ren noted, his words drawing Alere’s attention, though the elf could not have understood them.

“It is,” Xu Liang said, averting his eyes from the intensity of the fire, ignoring the twinges of strain that attacked him internally. With his gaze on the young general, he said, “It is precisely like that, but it is not that.”

“A spell,” Jiao Ren understood.

Xu Liang closed his eyes, turning his face toward the fire while raising his free hand in front of him. He recited prayers to his ancestors in his mind, weaving in prayers to both the Moon Goddess and the spirits of the winds. Gradually, the power of the air increased within the hall. At first it put pressure onto the dome of protection, simultaneously curling back the streams of fire sourcing from the pedestal.

He continued in prayer for several moments, moving past the obstacles that threatened to disturb his concentration, such as the tinting green of the flames in his mind’s eye. The jade fires brushed over him, like hands in a crowd, all of them reaching out to halt or redirect him. The spirits of the wind flew through the passages of his mind, carrying him swiftly. He came upon the billowing train of Mei Qiao’s robes and the wind rushed against it, flattening the layers of moonlight against the orange fires that were the spell’s destination.

He opened his eyes to a wall of blue fire spanning floor to ceiling before himself and the two in his presence. His arms were outstretched, and when he slowly closed them, the combined forces of the wind and the Moon Blade embraced the fire. The flames fell still. He had transferred the spell to himself, and for the moment it was recalibrating. The nature of it would have it assail the hall again once the transition completed. They would have to act quickly.

“Please, remove the
Spear of Heaven
from the statue,” Xu Liang requested of Jiao Ren.

The general obeyed.

While the golden shaft of Cheng Yu’s great weapon was gliding into the grasp of one who was perhaps meant to wield it, Xu Liang said to Alere, “You must dispel the fire, before the dragon lets out another breath.”

Alere needed no further encouragement. He stepped forward and held the end of the Twilight Blade to the mouth of the dragon statue.

They stood still and silent for several moments following. The weight of the fire spell dissipated from Xu Liang’s spirit, reminding him how taxing such a deed as laying an enchantment could be. He had forgotten since the spell he had cast upon the inner chambers of the Palace of Imperial Peace. One tended not to notice, until the spell had been transferred or broken. That meant that whomever had been maintaining the fire trap, as well as the earth spell had surely felt the loss of both burdens.

Xu Liang looked to Jiao Ren. “Say nothing of this—or of the spear—to anyone.”

“But, the Empress…”

“We will take this matter to the Empress ourselves, but first we must relocate the spear.”

Jiao Ren naturally hesitated at the idea of anything that seemed like deception of the Empress, but he nodded, solidifying his friendship and his loyalty.

It was in
the Imperial Garden where Song Da-Xiao insisted on receiving Xu Liang for the audience he requested. She had at first decided that she would receive no visitors until that evening and when her servant informed her of his arrival, she refused him. It had taken only an hour of wondering how that might have affected him, and feeling how it had affected her before she sent for him. Where current affairs were concerned, she understood that it was irresponsible of her to take time to herself while every other inhabitant of her court and of her city was forced to labor over solutions and to otherwise fear that there was none. Before Song Bin Ce could say anything—which Song Da-Xiao knew well that she would—she commanded to be dressed for an afternoon outside, where she would engage in private conversation with her tutor.

Song Bin Ce seemed to only approve of the decision in the way her role as sister-in-law had once—and still—inspired her. She looked more relieved that Xu Liang would not be turned away than encouraging toward Song Da-Xiao. She admitted to herself that it did bring her to consider the words of Han Quan, concerning the matter of Xu Liang’s unmarried status. It may have been that he would never marry, unless pressed by his superior. The idea that Song Bin Ce might have harbored some hope for herself was present, even though Song Da-Xiao couldn’t convince herself that her brother’s widow held any true interest in marriage. She had seemed comfortable in her station as a matron, and it had kept them close to one another. It made Han Quan’s claims feel ludicrous, but Xu Liang was famed, accomplished, and beautiful.

Thinking about the subject made her feel selfish at times, and unfortunately, Xiang Wu’s advice had set the subject squarely at the front of her mind. The governor of the northern kingdom made an art of reason, falling short of only Xu Liang, to whom it was a blessing. Even considering the possibility that she might lose title—the amount of fame and support Xu Liang had would surely put a claim well within reach—she could almost be convinced. Xu Liang would not be a poor emperor—far from it—and he already labored so much for the Empire…

Seeing the graceful form of her tutor approaching, she put the thought from her mind for the moment. The delicate structure of a small and simple pavilion painted the design of its lattice work upon the pavement. She studied the pattern from her chair, layered in cuts of yellow and pink silk, adorned with images of clouds and flowers. Her hair was arranged partly up with a headdress of flowers and suns that was less weighty than most of her ceremonial pieces. The rest of her hair was braided down, resting on the pavement behind her, along with her robes’ excess. Thoughts of marriage crept back into her mind, as well as ideas on becoming the one to support Xu Liang in his decisions. She would trust him with the future of the people.