Among the numerous directives which passed before Tingzhe’s eyes, there had been one passed down from the emperor himself. Emperor Siyu generally did not involve himself with the running of the Army directly. He instructed his generals, and his generals passed on whatever their individual armies needed to know. So, a direct order from the emperor was to be considered important and there had, in fact, been two in recent years. The first had been to have all intelligence regarding his missing daughter reported to Siyu immediately. The second had been to pass on any unusual reports regarding humans interacting with spirits. For whatever reason, Siyu wanted to know about weird stories like these ones. The most important, powerful man in the world wanted to hear two possibly unrelated stories about a possibly mythical redhead with a sword.
Part Four: Ghost Town
Household. Favourable for a woman to be steadfast and upright.
– The I Ching.
Forest of Lambech, Great Sky Day, 206.
In a way, Ayah really was only six. Every Great Year ended with Great Sky Day – which need not be on an actual Sky Day and was, in fact, on a Water Day this time – and Ayah had been born on Great Sky Day in Great Year 200 – which, as it happened, had also been a Sky Day. Her mother had been good enough to celebrate her birthday on the first day of each year, but Ayah had only ever had a real birthday once every Great Year and, more than any other reminder of her current situation, the coming of this birthday had left Ayah a little melancholy.
Her mood was not entirely helped by a restlessness which had been stealing over her for weeks. She could not put her finger on what it was she wanted or why she wanted it, but she had been craving something ever since the snow had begun to fall that year. Meditation seemed to ease it. Or, when she practised fire dancing with Xian, using the movements of the dance to shift her mind into a meditative state, the longing seemed to ease. Maybe it was the meditation, maybe it was the dancing, or maybe it was dancing with Xian that did it. Whatever the case, while Ayah’s skill in Wood Form was now quite respectable and her Fire Form was adequate, she was finding it harder to concentrate in lessons. She was finding it harder to concentrate in general.
Both Xian and Leshak were sitting on the stone platform this morning. Xian was in her red dress, which was unusual. One might have expected that the fox spirit would be cold, but it was never cold in this part of the forest. It was never too hot either. It rained there, but it never snowed, even when snow fell beyond the clearing, and the storms which might fell trees in other parts of the forest seemed to calm themselves before sweeping down among the standing stones. It was part of what made the place special and when Ayah had asked about it, Leshak had said, ‘Storms are imbalance, Ayah. They continue until balance is achieved. Here there is balance, except for such imbalances as we bring with us.’
‘Good morning,’ Xian said as Ayah approached her teachers. ‘Happy birthday, Ayah.’
‘Good morning and happy birthday to both of you,’ Ayah replied. She had discovered that Xian had been born on a Great Sky Day too. Leshak thought he had, though it was long enough ago that even he was unsure, especially since neither the current calendar nor any other had been invented at the time.
‘Thank you,’ Xian replied with a smile.
‘At my age,’ Leshak said, ‘birthdays don’t really mean much. However, as I understand things, this day is a special one in the life of humans.’
‘Six Great Years,’ Ayah said, nodding. ‘I’m officially an adult.’
‘Such arbitrary categorisations by age seem…’
‘Arbitrary?’
‘Just so. You have been an adult for some time now.’
It was true that Ayah had grown up in the last fourteen months. She had not quite grown another hand in height, but she now stood seventeen hands to the crown of her head, which was a little taller than her mother, so that seemed good. Her frame had filled out a little and she had put on muscle. The hoped-for arrival of breasts like her mother’s had spluttered and died after a promising start. She had to admit that hers had turned out a good shape – not overly large for sure, but firm and rounded with a bit of a point to them – but they were certainly not anything like Athelynn’s magnificence. Ayah’s face had hardened a little too. Her cheeks had narrowed and she had finally lost her teenage roundness. Her hair now fell to the small of her back even when she tied it into a ponytail and she had taken to combing out bangs which fell down over both cheeks. She had turned into quite a beautiful young woman, even if she had not really noticed it was happening until recently.
‘According to common law,’ Ayah said, ‘a human is not considered old enough to form legal contracts until they are past their sixth great birthday. Marriage is a form of contract, so I’d be allowed to marry now. A lot of people view that as a momentous occasion.’
‘But not you?’
‘I’ve never met anyone I wanted to marry. I’ve met someone who wanted to marry me, but he’s the reason I’m not still living in Avrilatha. Have we anything planned for today?’
‘We both thought,’ Xian replied, ‘that we should take the day off. You’ve been working hard and today is your birthday.’
Ayah settled onto the ground, crossing her legs, and selected a peach from the bowl of fruit Leshak had provided. ‘Okay,’ she said. She had asked Leshak the year before how he somehow managed to provide fresh fruit in the middle of winter and he had told her that he had his ways. It was not an especially fulfilling answer, but it was an answer and Ayah had not worried over it. She had found herself not worrying about anything very much until recently. Recently, small frustrations seemed to be very important and she had no idea why. Maybe adults just worried more, in which case Ayah was not especially fond of the idea of growing up.
However, like many things the universe tossed in her direction, growing up was inevitable. There was nothing she could do about getting older so that was one thing she was not going to worry about. Not too much anyway.
~~~
‘What’s bothering you?’ Xian asked as they sat in the stone hut which had become, over the months, Ayah’s. It was growing dark outside and the moon crystals – the name Leshak gave the strange things which provide light at night – were beginning to glow.
Ayah had changed into the short dress that Xian had bought for her so long ago in Saventi. It did not fit as well as it had back then. Her legs were longer so the hem was shorter, stopping above mid-thigh. The front did not close quite so well around her body as it had before, so there was a little more skin on display over her chest but it was a fairly loose garment anyway and the broad belt kept it relatively decent. Ayah knew that Xian liked to see her wearing it and it was Xian’s birthday too.
‘I…’ Ayah began and then realised she was not sure what to say. She set her mind on the most immediate matter. ‘I guess I’m a little homesick. I always thought I’d spend today with my mother. I certainly didn’t expect to be in the middle of a forest with two spirits.’ Leshak was, in fact, off somewhere doing something he had not bothered to explain, but that was not uncommon.
Xian nodded. ‘You’ll see her again, you know.’
‘I certainly hope so.’
‘And when you do, she is going to be very proud of the woman you’ve become. Though she will say that she always expected it. It’s something mothers say about their children.’
Ayah grinned. ‘Did yours say that of you?’
‘Spirits aren’t born the way humans are. We have no parents except the world. We’re born of a need the universe has at the time. Leshak, for example, was born when the worlds separated and there was a need for a guardian spirit for this forest.’
‘And you?’
‘Oh, I was born of the need for a good laugh. All foxes are.’ Xian looked quite serious, but there was a sparkle in her eye which suggested something else.
‘Ah, but humans have spirits, so–’ Xian was shaking her head and Ayah frowned. ‘No?’
‘Humans have souls. When they
die, those souls become spirits and there are some humans who may divide off a shadow of their souls to walk the spirit world. Souls and spirits are not the same thing, though they are related.’
‘I’ve never been very good at philosophy.’
‘That is something we should remedy at some point. Not tonight, I think. Tonight… I am going to gather some food and get a bottle of Leshak’s mead and we are going to celebrate your coming of age properly.’
‘By getting drunk?’ Ayah had had the mead Leshak brewed or obtained somehow from somewhere before. It tasted glorious and got you drunk very fast. On the other hand, you woke up the following morning without a throbbing head or any sense that you had indulged a little too much the night before.
‘Something like that,’ Xian replied.
~~~
The mead was not affecting Ayah as badly as last time, but she was feeling a little lightheaded. She giggled as Xian finished telling the story of how she had seduced a powerful imperial official who had been bleeding the district he governed dry to fuel his political rise.
‘So, as it ended up,’ Xian said, ‘I stole almost his entire fortune, returning it to the people of his district, had him convicted of treason since he could no longer afford expensive lawyers, ruined his marriage, and ran off with his wife who turned out to be a better lover anyway.’
Ayah’s giggles got silly and she sipped her drink to settle herself a little. She had a vague feeling that she should not be laughing at the story. There was something rather inappropriate about it, but she did not really care. The man Xian had tricked had been reprehensible for a number of reasons and the fox spirit had given him what he deserved. Sort of.
‘What eventually happened to the wife?’ Ayah asked.
‘She married a respectable farmer from a village not far from your Avrilatha and gave him three children. Two boys and a girl. I’d visit now and again while she was alive.’ Xian leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner which made no sense considering what she had just been talking about. ‘Her husband was hung like a horse and he could keep us both entertained for most of the night.’
Ayah giggled again and covered her flushed cheeks by drinking again. ‘I’m sure you shouldn’t be telling me things like that. It’s not seemly.’
‘I think you’re old enough to handle a bawdy tale or two.’
Looking up through her bangs, Ayah gave a slight smile. ‘Maybe I am.’
Xian paused briefly, drained her cup of its honeyed contents, and then rose to her feet in the smooth way that she had. She reached to her throat and the first of the fastenings of her gown.
‘What are you doing?’ Ayah asked. The action was a surprise, but there was something somewhere in the back of Ayah’s mind that had suddenly woken up and begun to take an interest.
‘I’m going to dance for you,’ Xian replied, ‘and this dress would simply get in the way. It’s a shame we can’t do it properly, but Leshak does so hate fires.’
Xian took her time over releasing the ties which held the gown in place. The last of them was over her right hip, and with it undone she opened the coat-like garment to reveal that, as usual, she wore nothing beneath it. She tossed it to one side negligently and then shifted smoothly into the first position of the Fire Dance: ankles together, head bowed, hands held before her chest with her left hand wrapped around her right fist.
As Ayah had learned, the Fire Dance was based around one of the longest formal practice sets in Fire Form. In Abesson – where Fire Form had possibly originated and where it remained the predominant martial Form – there were competitions to perform these sets as perfectly as possible. It was truly a martial art and people would sometimes learn the forms of the sets without ever really learning to apply them. No one knew whether the dance had come from that art, or from the combat Form, or even whether the dance had come first.
The dance took its ‘steps’ from the practice set – or the other way around – but you really had to know that to see it. The set shifted from position to position in sharp, decisive movements: it was a sequence of strikes, evasions, and blocks designed to build muscle memory. In the dance, the dancer moved fluidly from one position to the next such that the formal positions were often difficult to see amid the smooth, sensual motions. Xian had told Ayah that some viewed the Fire Dance as a form of seduction. In the Western Plains and the northern lands, where it was performed, it was never done in front of children by common custom. In those places, it was viewed as somewhat lewd and if anyone had ever seen Xian perform it naked, they would have realised how right they were.
Ayah had seen Xian perform before, of course: they had been training Ayah in the dance for months. But she had never seen her do it like this. The nudity was not even the reason why Ayah’s pulse seemed to be leaping in her throat and beginning a slow throb far lower in her body. It was the way Xian moved and the way her amber eyes locked onto Ayah’s blue ones whenever the movements of the dance permitted it. It was like being stalked: Xian was hunting prey and Ayah was the prey and the prey was hypnotised, unable to look away as the fox closed in for the kill.
Maybe Xian had hypnotised Ayah somehow because Xian was suddenly not in front but behind Ayah. Ayah felt a hand on her shoulder and Xian’s warm breath moved the tiny hairs on Ayah’s neck. ‘Concentrate on your breathing,’ Xian whispered. ‘Keep your breathing steady, even, no matter what.’
‘O-okay,’ Ayah said, though her voice was so quiet she was not sure she had spoken. She felt the cloth of her dress sliding off her breasts. That was not a difficult thing to achieve given the loose fit of the dress. Gentle fingers, barely touching, slid over her now bare skin and her breath stuttered in her throat. She focused herself and stilled it immediately and the fingers continued their stroking.
‘That’s good. Breathe. Focus entirely on the air entering your body and leaving.’
Fingers and thumbs teased Ayah’s nipples into hardness and Ayah focused as hard as she could on her breathing, even if she was not sure why she was being asked to do so. In through the nose. But it feels so good. Out through the mouth. So, so good…
‘Breathe.’ Xian’s right hand left Ayah’s breast, but a second later fingers were sliding over an exposed thigh. ‘Breathe.’ The fingers found Ayah’s hip and circled briefly before sliding under the flap of Ayah’s skirt. Ayah had to try really hard to keep her breathing steady as Xian’s fingers slid over and down to where only Ayah’s fingers had ever been before. Ayah knew she was wet down there. But all she could think of was the throbbing which had started there and now seemed to be pumping up through her entire body. The throbbing and her breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Focus on breathing. Xian’s fingers found the nub of flesh they were looking for. Ayah was sure it had never been so swollen, so tense. Xian began to circle and tease and Ayah closed her eyes and breathed. In through the nose. Won’t last long. Out through the mouth.
On the edge of climax, Ayah felt Xian change her motions somehow and the urgent need for release subsided. ‘Almost there,’ Xian whispered. ‘Breathe, Ayah. Breathe.’ Ayah breathed and Xian pushed her upward again, only to draw her back at the last moment. Ayah struggled to breathe rather than moan. Once again she was taken up and then, somehow, she was hanging there, right on the edge of orgasm. Her mind was awash with intense pleasure, anticipation of the coming explosion which did not come. She was lost in it. All she could see was white light and she was drowning in it. All she could feel was the air in her lungs, moving in and out, and the gentle play of Xian’s fingers as her body throbbed in time to some ancient cosmic beat.
An image emerged from the white. Ayah found herself looking at herself standing in the centre of the circle of stones outside the hut. She was standing on the tips of her toes, her arms outstretched. In her left hand she held a staff of hard wood. In her right hand was her sword. Balanced on her left elbow was a copper dish in which coals glowed and spat out flames, and there was a rock perched on the crown of her head. She was
balancing there, or trying to, but the weight was uneven and, though she was struggling hard to stay upright, she was slowly tipping over to the left. Desperately, Ayah reached out to the image of herself, trying to tip the balance the other way, but it was no good. She watched herself fall…
And she was in Xian’s arms, her body straining from the orgasm crashing through it. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Certainly, it was beyond anything she had ever teased out of her body herself. Xian held her until the aftershocks had more or less ceased and Ayah was lying limply in her arms. ‘Did you enjoy that?’ Xian asked, her voice soft.
‘It was amazing,’ Ayah replied. ‘I saw…’
‘I taught you to use fire dancing to aid in your meditation. Perhaps I’ll teach you how to use sex to aid someone else sometime. Aside from anything else, prolonging the process like that results in… quite explosive results.’
Ayah managed a giggle. ‘How long was I… hanging?’
‘I didn’t count. It’s well dark now.’ It had been early evening when they had started. ‘What did you see? Intense meditation can bring out knowledge we don’t even know we have.’
Now Ayah frowned. ‘I think… I think my mind is trying to tell me that I’m unbalanced. I don’t want it to be true, but I think I have to leave the forest. I need to find a Water Form teacher.’
8th Day, First Nahad, 207.
The Iron Princess Page 10