by JC Kang
Cross-armed, Jie tapped her toe. Apparently, she agreed it wasn’t worth the delay.
Two teenage Ayuri, a boy and a girl, sat outside sharpening their nagas. Beyond them, the stone building had an open front, allowing a clear view of the two dwarves in goggles and leather aprons.
Sparks flew as a dwarf with rust-colored hair and beard struck a blue-hot metal rod with a large hammer. A wrinkled, white-bearded dwarf held and flipped the rod over an anvil with a pair of tongs. They both hummed what sounded like a marching tune, the beat set to their hammering.
Kaiya gasped. Dwarves were famous for their inventiveness and craftsmanship, not their music. The sound was beautiful. But what were they making?
“Paladin nagas,” Gayan yelled over the pounding, answering her unasked question. He waved at the younger dwarf, who paused and lifted his goggles.
Tugging off his gloves, the dwarf stomped over. He stood a head shorter than her, nearly as tall as Jie. Soot covered his face, except where the goggles had protected his eyes. He thumped his chest with his fist. “Ashler Blackhammer, at yer service, lass,” he said in Arkothi. “Or should I say, Yer ‘ighness?”
Even a dwarf she’d never seen before recognized her. Kaiya returned his salute, bringing her fist to her chest. “Well met, Master Blackhammer,” she spoke in the manner of the North.
He favored her with irises as black as coal. “So up the hill we go, t’fetch ye a rock of istrium alloy.”
“A rock?” She raised an eyebrow at Gayan.
The boy nodded. “To make your focus.”
Master Blackhammer tilted his chin to the elder dwarf and wiped his hands on his apron. He then led them down the street.
At the flower-covered statue of Acharya, they turned right off the main road and onto a side street that ran through the three-hundred-year-old ruins of ancient Ayudra.
Kaiya shuddered. Nothing in Hua spoke of the Hellstorm like the crumbling buildings and rubble-strewn streets before her. A city built over seven hundred years, reduced to ruins in just a single night. Hundreds of thousands of unfortunate souls, immolated or drowned.
Following a cleared path through the debris, they circled the Temple of the Moon at a distance and began the gentle ascent onto the hill.
The dwarf raked an open hand over the land. “Keep yer eyes open fer somethin’ that catches yer fancy, lass.” He then started to hum, continuing his earlier war song. Every now and then, he would pick up a stone and thrust it into a coarse cloth bag.
Bewildered, Kaiya looked around at the heap of blue-grey shards scattered as far as the eye could see. She bent over and picked up a smooth pebble.
The dwarf laughed. “That’s just a rock, lass.”
Kaiya held him in her gaze. “What am I searching for?”
“A rock ye kin feel belongs to ye.”
Gayan’s head bobbed several times. “When the Hellstorm obliterated Mount Ayudra, the istrium dust fused with iron deposits. Paladin students come here to find a piece that feels right to them, and the Blackhammers incorporate that into a naga. Rumor has it a Golden Scorpion melts his naga sword to make his mask to symbolize their break from the order. Still, it’s their connection to the spiritual home of the Bahaadur. The Oracle wanted you to have a tie as well.”
Master Blackhammer raised a bushy eyebrow at Gayan. “Ye sure she kin do it? She’s got no trainin’ in yer meditation.”
The boy nodded enthusiastically and the dwarf shrugged, going back to his humming.
“Sing,” Jie said. “Just like Master Blackhammer’s hum. The Paladins feel, you hear.”
The suggestion was as good as any. With a deep breath, Kaiya banished impatience and uncertainties from her mind. She raised her voice in song, letting the orchestra of the island guide her as she improvised.
Around her, shards lit up in soft blue light.
The dwarf stared at her, eyes wide. The boy just grinned ear-to-ear.
Among all the scattered rocks, a cherry-sized stone sang back to her. Kaiya knelt down and picked it up. Its coldness gave the impression of a stream infused with snowmelt.
“That’s yer stone, lass,” the dwarf said. “Give it t’me, and I’ll craft a nice ring for ya. Come t’my uncle’s forge next time ye visit so ye kin sing t’it again. Yon voice o’yers will work much better than a pair’o dwarves a’hummin’.”
The next time she visited, he said. If the Oracle’s predictions were true, a lot would be happening between then and now.
CHAPTER 26:
Song of Swords
The wide sailing barge cut through the Shallowsea’s mangrove-dotted expanse, sailing farther and farther away from Ayudra. As the island disappeared in the distance, Kaiya needed to focus harder to perceive the soft wind in the mangrove branches singing in concert with the ripples of the placid waters.
“Concentrate!” Master Sabal’s tone had become strict after leaving behind his role as guide and taking up the mantle of mentor. “You can feel, and to some extent control, the vibrations of the world. You must now learn to surrender to them. You laugh, half-elf?”
Kaiya opened her eyes and whipped her head around.
Jie covered her mouth with a hand. “Sorry, Master. The way you spoke brought visions of one of my teachers.”
The master Paladin pursed his lips. “I hope he was handsome.”
Jie grinned. “She was.”
His eyebrows clashed together as he glared at the Insolent Retainer. “You want to challenge my naga skills. You have, since the day we met. Well, let us have at it. I forewarn you, you will get wet.”
Kaiya stared from Jie back to the master. The kind man from just a couple of days before was nowhere to be found on this barge. In his place, a strict teacher stood ready to tongue-lash her each time she failed to feel the so-called vibrations of the world. Now, she stood forgotten as he turned his ire toward Jie.
The Moquan girl placed her right fist in her left palm. A snap of her wrists brought a knife into each hand. “Please teach me.”
Kaiya twirled a lock of her hair. The Hua politeness before a duel might be lost in translation.
The master pressed his palms together and then drew his naga. Made of a bluish-grey metal, the single-edged broadsword had a wide tip and no guard. “After y—”
Jie lunged at him with a torrent of slashes. The older man avoided each one with subtle body shifts before his naga whistled toward her in a single horizontal cut. It glowed with a blue tinge.
She barely dodged the blow by jumping backward; but the Paladin pressed the attack. Her next step back sent her over the edge of the barge, flipping head-over-heels into the sea.
Water sprayed upwards with a loud splash. Kaiya flinched. It had all happened so fast. Her ears had captured it all, but her eyes still processed the image.
“You felt it! Good!” The Paladin beamed at her. He then looked toward where Jie had gone overboard. “Not bad on your part either, half-elf.”
The imperial guards rushed to the edge. Jie’s fingers gripped the rim while she vigorously kicked up water.
Master Sabal laughed. “Try standing, girl. There is a reason we call it the Shallowsea.”
The babbling water quieted and Jie’s head popped up. Only her pony tail was wet. “It’s just waist-high!”
“Yes,” the master said. “Just below the brackish waters lie the fertile flood plains that once made up the heart of the Ayuri Empire. Most of the Shallowsea’s depth is knee-height. The barge captains follow the old river beds, which rarely go deeper than the height of a man.”
Ma Jun helped Jie back on board. Wet clothes clung to her lithe form, outlining several small weapons and tools.
Master Sabal turned to Kaiya. “What you saw me do, Your Highness, is what happens when you surrender to the vibrations of the world. You move—not with intention, but because you are moved. Combat slows down in your mind’s eye, and your own motions become subconscious.”
Kaiya nodded, even if it didn’t make sense. Her music t
eachers always emphasized the power of intent...though Lord Xu had mentioned something about improvisation before.
“You do not believe me.” He motioned for the guards. “You three, attack me.”
Xu Zhan whipped his short sword out, ready to take up the challenge. His enthusiasm for fighting might get him killed one day.
Zhao Yue, on the other hand, responded cautiously. He looked over the boat, then back. “When you send us for a swim, I am afraid the ghosts of the millions who died in the Hellstorm will drag us under.”
Master Sabal harrumphed. “There are no ghosts. The energies of the living join the vibrations of the universe for a time, only to be reborn and die again. The cycle has repeated itself many times since the Hellstorm. Now draw your weapons. Fight as if you are defending your princess.”
As if defending her? Zhao Yue and Ma Jun turned to her, and Kaiya nodded in silent authorization. Hopefully, they would be careful.
The two joined the more enthusiastic Xu Zhan. They saluted with right fists in left palms, and then bared their blades.
The Paladin pressed his hands together. “Now come at me.”
The three imperial guards fanned out as much as the boat would allow, interposing themselves between the Paladin and her. On Ma Jun’s shout, they engaged Master Sabal in a synchronized attack that very few would escape alive, let alone unscathed.
The master Paladin whirled in a blur among their buzzing swords. His deadly dance was reminiscent of when Lord Xu had approached her through a cordon of imperial guards on the castle wall years before.
Unable to track his movements, she turned her ear to listen. Jie appeared in her line of sight. The Moquan’s eyes darted back and forth, tapered ears twitching as she watched the melee.
The noises were unlike those of any other duel Kaiya had witnessed. The swishing of blades and bodies through the air replaced the typical clinks and clanks of metal on metal.
When the sound stopped, Master Sabal’s presence radiated next to her. She met his solemn gaze.
“Your guards fight in harmony with each other,” he said. “Their form is intricately choreographed, with excellent changes according to situation. Nonetheless, it needs to harmonize with the vibrations of the world if they are to have a chance of defeating a seasoned Paladin.”
The three all sank to one knee, heads bowed, swords proffered to her. “We have failed you, Dian-xia. If it is your command—”
Kaiya waved them into silence, even as she gazed at Master Sabal. The sounds of the fight replayed in her ears, giving clarity to the blur of motion.
He narrowed his eyes. “Do not just feel. Be moved.”
Kaiya sighed. She’d never felt so inadequate, even as an awkward tween pretending to be Perfect Princess. “I will try.”
He jabbed a finger at her. “Trying is the first step to failure. Your conscious mind cannot be moved.”
“I will meditate on it more.” She bowed.
The master smiled. “Good. You, handmaiden, get some dry clothes or you will catch a cold.”
The journey across the Shallowsea took three days, giving Jie plenty of time to watch and listen to the lessons meant for the princess. It gave her reason to ignore the badgering old elf wizard Ayana, whom Prince Aelward had sent along as extra protection.
At times, Jie would convince one of the imperial guards to play with her at the other end of the skiff, in the games they excelled at.
As much as Black Lotus clansmen mocked the imperial guards behind their backs, the only Moquan who could go toe-to-toe with one in a swordfight was Tian. She was certainly no match for an imperial guard in a fair fight. Which was why she rarely fought fair.
These days, however, with Master Sabal’s lessons to the princess taken to heart, Jie refrained from tricks and found herself performing better and better with each successive loss. The master, whose line of sight was blocked by the center cabins from his side of the deck, shouldn’t have been able to witness the duels. Nonetheless, he would tell her almost exactly how a fight had unfolded and where she’d gone wrong.
In the afternoon of the third day, she and Chen Xin squared off against each other in a light drizzle. After returning her salute, he surged forward with a quick stab of his curved short sword. She sidestepped and cut toward his hand with a knife, but he raised his weapon to parry.
A stray clump of seaweed on deck begged to be kicked into Chen’s face, but that wouldn’t be fair. She followed through with a thrust of her other knife. He parried that blow as well and swept his blade around. She stepped back out of reach and sank into a defensive stance.
He was fast, even though he approached middle years for a human.
“Feel his intention,” Ayana said, uninvited.
Jie turned to spit out a retort, just as Chen Xin pressed his attack with a lethal combination of slashes. In that second of inattention, she knew everything he planned. His sword seemed to move through honey, and it took little effort to avoid.
She moved in to deliver the winning blow when he paused and looked toward the bow of the ship. She followed his gaze to a sparkle on the horizon.
“The Paladins’ Crystal Citadel,” Ayana said, “on Vyara City’s central hilltop.”
Hair matted with sweat, Chen Xin backed away. He put his fist into his palm and grinned. “We’ll call it a draw.”
She would’ve won. Nonetheless, Jie ignored him and instead squinted to see a thin line of land in the distance, separating the pale blue sky from the dark green sea. Yet even her sharp elven sight couldn’t make out any detail of the famous city-state.
Vyara City intrigued her not for its famous network of beautiful canals, nor for its importance as home to the Paladin Order. Rather, the city played prominently in recent Black Lotus history, when on a mission a year before her birth, one of three young Moquan masters perished while retrieving a secret artifact for the Tianzi. The other two died within the year; and the next generation of Moquan conjectured fanciful theories of how the mysterious artifact had been cursed.
The names of the three had been expunged from the monastery records, and all adepts who knew the young masters were forbidden to speak of the mission or their real names. Master Yan had gone so far as to block off the memory of some Moquan with the Tiger’s Eye technique. In tales of their other exploits, the three deceased masters were known by the code names Beauty, Surgeon, and Architect.
Though the ill-fated mission had occurred before her birth, it always piqued Jie’s interest. If circumstances permitted, she would investigate the three-decade-old cold case. Perhaps she could find someone in Vyara City, not bound by the Moquan rules of secrecy, who might tell her more.
CHAPTER 27:
A Hot Welcome
A barrage of sound assaulted Kaiya’s ears as the barge approached the wharfs, which reached far into the waters like several dozen spindly fingers. Seagulls screeched in lazy circles above, occasionally swooping in to steal fishermen’s daily catches. Sailors joked and cursed as their barges jockeyed for docking positions. Even the din emanating from the city itself echoed over the water. If Jiangkou Port had been cacophonous, the Hua language didn’t have a word to describe the level of noise and chaos of Vyara City’s harbor. She rubbed her ears.
Master Sabal laughed. “You will find no noisier place on Tivaralan than early morning Vyara City.”
A smile! It befit him better than the gruff role of teacher. Kaiya nodded in time with the gently rocking boat. Jie edged up next to her.
Master Sabal gestured toward the skyline. “Vyara City was already quite a commercial center before the Hellstorm. Located at the confluence of two great rivers, where ocean-going vessels could no longer pass upstream, it prospered as a transit point between the river barges upstream and the sailing ships downstream. In one night, the ocean came all the way to its doorstep and transformed it into a peninsular seaport.”
Kaiya tried picturing the city as an inland river city, but the noise addled her imagination.
“Concentrate, young one.” The teacher’s tone returned, if only for a second. He pointed to other cityscapes in the distance. “When smaller nation states emerged from the ashes of the Ayuri Empire, they established national capitals there, there, and way over there. Each is less than an hour’s ferry ride from Vyara’s harbor. That is how it supplanted Ayudra as the economic and cultural heart of our people.”
Grasping the bulwark, Kaiya looked at the other cities before scanning Vyara’s waterfront. Block-shaped, flat-roofed shops, warehouses, and trading offices stretched as far as the eye could see, broken only by canals going inland. People crowded the streets, yelling and gesticulating as they went about their business. The noise rose to a roar as their barge docked. Her heart rattled at the dissonance. Reading about Tivaralan’s largest city was so different from experiencing it.
She disembarked, followed by her guards. Humid heat rolled over her almost as soon as her foot touched the quay. Paintings did the city little justice. A hill rose in the background. A single road spiraled its way up the slope, lined by dozens of white mansions with graceful columns and arches, and topped by elegant domes, spires, and minarets. At the very top, the Paladins’ Crystal Citadel sparkled in the morning sun.
If the Oracle truly knew the future, Kaiya would be visiting the citadel soon enough. “Why do the Paladin elders meet here, instead of Ayudra Island?”
“Ayudra may be the spirit of the Paladin Order, but Vyara City is its brain. It is in the center of Ayuri lands, within a week’s travel of every nation within the Paladins’ mandate.” Master Sabal gestured to the dock. “Here is where we part ways, Your Highness. It has been a pleasure. I hope our paths cross again.”
Hopefully. With the imperial guards drawing up around her, Kaiya pressed her palms together and bowed her head. “Thank you for teaching me, Master.”
He returned the gesture and disappeared into the crowds.