by JC Kang
Ming took a few steps toward Tian, arms outstretched. Everyone quieted.
Tian backed off. Awkward.
“Uh…” Ming stopped in his tracks. His attention fell on Jie’s twin. “…interesting company you keep, I—”
The half-elf silenced him with a glare. If anything good came out of this, it would be that Ming could now be terrorized by two half-elves.
Though Tian’s eyes flicked in Ming’s direction, they instantly returned to meet hers. Dark and intelligent as always. Jie’s heart hammered in her chest.
Ming’s brow furrowed. “Tian!”
Tian’s eyes again flashed to Ming before settling on her. He must not even know his own name. Certainly a possible side effect of the Viper’s Rest.
“Ming, he has lost his memories.” Jie wobbled forward a few steps.
With a frown, Ming said, “Apparently. And filled them with swordsmanship. Last time I saw Tian with a sword in his hand, Princess Kaiya beat him with ease.”
Her again. Jie’s stomach knotted. There was no escaping the princess.
Yet Tian didn’t react to the name. He looked from Jie to Ming and back again. “How do you know me?”
Ming spoke loudly enough to scare away the forest animals, enunciating each word with deliberate slowness, as if Tian had lost his hearing and not his memories. “Because. I. Am. Your. Brother.”
Tian’s nod could only be described as tentative. “You bear a resemblance to me. I agree. But I don’t know either of you. I don’t even know my own name.”
“Tian,” Ming said. “Tian. Fourth son of Zheng Han, Tai-Ming Lord of Dongmen Province.”
Jie drew the character for his name in the air. “Tian, as in sky; Tian as in heavens.”
Tian’s expression brightened. Did he remember? “That’s what the Doe-Eyed Girl called me. In my dream.”
Doe-Eyed Girl. That could only be…
“And you.” Tian lifted his chin at Ming. “You called me that, too. I thought you were invoking the Heavens.”
Ming snorted. The elf archer in deerskin clothes blurted out a few halting syllables.
Tian nodded at the elf. “Tian,” he said.
“Tian,” her twin repeated. She then jabbed a finger at Jie and unleashed a tirade of foreign words.
He turned back to Jie. “Kiri wants you to show the back of your neck.”
Kiri, eh? So she had a name, and an elf-sounding name at that. In order to get answers to her growing number of questions, Jie dropped to a knee. It was safe; the elf had lowered his bow and stowed the arrow. Even if he could nock it pretty fast, Tian wouldn’t let the elf shoot her. Hopefully. And she would hear Kiri approaching in time to defend herself. Unclasping the frog ties at the front of her blouse, she shrugged her shirt down to her shoulders and bent her head forward.
Kiri let out a long breath and said a few more words.
“So who are you?” Tian asked.
Who was she? Best friend. Jilted lover. Maybe a twin sister, all of a sudden. Some things were better left unsaid. Jie stood and turned around. Maybe everything was better left unsaid. She flashed their clan hand signals at him. You Moquan.
Brow furrowed, he returned a sign. What Moquan? His ability to respond left absolutely no doubt it was Tian.
The others’ heads jerked back and forth, following the exchange. Kiri threw her hands up and blurted out a string of unintelligible words. Tian shrugged.
Jie pointed a finger at her nose. “My name is Jie. You and I belong to the same clan of warrior-spies.”
“What?” Ming’s mouth slackened.
Kiri tugged at Tian’s sleeve, while he shook his head, slowly, and eased back.
Jie stepped toward him and shot her hand out. He lifted his in defense, and their wrists met. The elf’s bow was in his hand, an arrow nocked, while Kiri stumbled back a few steps.
Ignoring them, Jie lowered into a broad stance and pressed her wrist against his. His body melted into the same stance as he turned at the waist and redirected her force to the side. He twisted his hips back and pushed into her. Sinking deeper into her stance, Jie unleashed a flurry of preset patterns. Tian reacted with prearranged responses, the pressure at the point of contact between their hands remaining constant.
She disengaged, pirouetting back in a flourishing end to the form. She settled into the final pose, a single arm outstretched, wrist bent and palm upturned, her other hand arced above her head.
A few steps away, Tian mirrored her. His Yang to her Yin, they were meant for each other.
Maybe the Pushing Hands game of Supreme Ultimate Fist had jolted his memory.
Moquan. The word meant nothing to Feneyas, beyond Jie’s explanation of warrior-spies. However, there was no doubting the veracity of her claims after their martial dance. His every technique harmonized with hers, an orchestra of offensive and defensive energies. Now, there she stood just six feet away, her pose mirroring his exactly.
He looked up and stared at his arms. At least ‘Moquan’ explained where the fighting skills came from. No telling what those hands had done in the past.
If he and Jie belonged to the same clan, it might explain the sense of familiarity Kiri stirred in him. Though how did Kiri and Jie look exactly alike? Identical twins?
He turned to Kiri. “Why did you want to see the scar on her neck?”
Her brows scrunched together and shook her head. “She doesn’t have one.”
“She has a few marks, like yours.” Though in truth, unlike Kiri’s ugly long scars, Jie’s had been masterfully stitched. Except one on her right shoulder, whose jagged lines looked like a sailor had knotted them together with rope.
“Not like mine. And not one here.” Kiri turned and tapped the blotch on her back, at the base of her neck. “She’s not one of us.”
“One of you?”
“Vrztchkrn.”
Feneyas cringed at the strange sound. “I don’t know what it is.”
Kiri pointed at Turquoise Man’s body. “Their language. I don’t know how to translate in Kanin or Elvish. Maybe sisters. Exact sisters.”
“Twins,” Feneyas used the word from the Kanin dialect. Though the term, at least as he understood it, didn’t exactly mean the same as identical twins in his native language.
Dior pointed at Ming. “And what about you and the other Man From Beyond the Wall? Is he your twin?”
“A brother, at least,” Feneyas said, shrugging. One he didn’t remember, and who seemed more like Jie’s comic sidekick.
Jie cleared her throat. “What’s Kiri saying about the altivorc?”
Altivorc. The race of non-human mercenaries, Feneyas remembered now. Kiri didn’t even understand the language spoken among the Metal Men, yet the very sight of the altivorc sent her into a panic. She could also speak the altivorc language. He shook his head and locked his gaze on Jie. “Nothing really, just told me a word in their tongue. Identical twins.”
Ming nodded. “They look exactly alike, like two cherries from the same tree.” His smile then melted and he muttered something inaudibly under his breath.
Jie shot him a glare, and he stared down at his feet. Harrumphing, she shifted her gaze to Kiri. “That must be it: we are identical twins.” She took a hesitant step toward her twin and stretched out her hand. “May I?”
Kiri stared at the hand, then looked up. “I’m sorry I had Dior attack you. I thought you were someone else.”
The two just talked past each other, neither understanding their counterpart’s language. How strange that a man without memories would most likely end up as translator between long-lost sisters. Jie’s hand touched Kiri’s shoulder, making the girl flinch.
Jie looked up at him. “I never knew I had a real sister. An identical twin, no less.” Her eyes bent toward Dior. “Is the elf our father?”
Feneyas almost choked. “Dior? No. Just a friend.”
“What did she say?” Dior stroked an arrow’s fletching.
“She asked what your relationship was to
Kiri.”
Dior chuckled. “Guardian. Conscience.”
“And what about her?” Jie tilted her chin at Kala.
Feneyas scratched his chin. Their relationship had never been explained, since Kiri refused to talk about her past, and Kala barely spoke Kanin. He had always assumed that from the way Kiri cared for Kala, and their similar appearance, they must be sisters. “Sisters, maybe?”
Ming nodded. “Just like us, brothers.”
“Can you ask?” Jie’s stare bored into him.
Tian nodded, then turned back to Kiri. “Are you and Kala sisters?”
“Vrztchkrn.”
That word again, which sounded like a pack of angry dogs fighting over table scraps. Tian looked back at Jie, nodding. “Sisters.”
Jie and Kiri peered at one another, sizing each other up.
He would have to mediate. But first, he had a lot of questions, one which pricked at him more than the others. “I want to ask you something. I have dreamed about a beautiful Doe-Eyed Girl. She seems to be an important part of my past, but I don’t recall how. What can you tell me about her?”
Chapter 19:
Smoke Signals
The last time Kaiya marched at the head of an army, it’d been a contingent of Paladins and her imperial guard, to face down Avarax.
Today, she led a ragtag militia of forty-two insurgents and eight green imperial soldiers, commanded by a middle-aged spy. Who walked with a staff.
Not to mention he held Weiyong hostage back at the warehouse, to ensure her good behavior. Apparently, trust only went so far.
At Fu’s insistence, she kept her hood up as they travelled in small clusters through the capital, where the crowds went about their daily lives. Little by little, they wasted precious time regrouping on the road by the way station, three li outside the city walls as Ziqiu had said.
Kaiya found the iridescent moon, now waxing to half. Not long until dusk. Soon, the light signals would be visible for several li. She turned her attention to the tower.
Cut from blocks of stone, it rose some sixty feet into the air. Beside it, several imperial soldiers lounged outside the stables and barracks. Some gambled over dice, while one read. More than a few afforded her army a cursory glance, yet made no move to approach or warn the rest of the garrison. The martial discipline Father had once inspired was gone.
Kaiya looked to Fu. “We do not want to make them nervous with so many armed men. You and Song accompany me. There will be no need for violence.” She hoped.
Fu smirked. “And if you do take command of the tower without drawing a sword, what is to keep you from ordering the imperial soldiers to arrest us?”
“I swore on this.” She held up Tian’s tablet, still hidden its pouch. No need to mention that Weiyong’s safety depended on it, since they both knew it.
“Very well, Dian-xia.” He bowed and stretched a hand toward the tower.
Tired and wearing commoners’ travelling clothes, she hardly looked the part of a princess. Without the power of her voice, convincing the imperial soldiers of her identity might prove to be difficult. Perhaps she should ask Fu to come up with a backup plan, just in case…
No; he probably had a plan ready anyway, most likely involving the killing of loyal men. With a deep breath, she took several steps toward the tower. Fu and Song followed just behind.
The imperial soldiers watched their approach with disinterest, most turning back to whatever they were doing.
Unacceptable. With such poor discipline, they didn’t stand a chance against the Teleri. Lifting her chin and straightening her carriage, Kaiya lowered her hood and shifted her hesitant gait into a delicate glide. The soldiers now murmured and pointed, and many squared their backs and shoulders.
She stopped by the tower. The two sentries’ roving eyes served as a reminder that her beauty alone was formidable weapon against gullible men. Infused with magic or not, her tone carried imperial authority. “Summon your commander.”
The soldiers glanced among themselves, their confusion clear in their expressions.
Fu slammed the butt end of his staff into the ground. His voice flared with anger. “Princess Kaiya gave you a command!”
The men dropped to a knee, fist to the ground. “Yes, Dian-xia,” the shouted in unison.
“Rise.” She lifted a hand. Thank the Heavens for Fu’s impeccable timing.
The sentries stood and held rigid stances. One ran into the tower. Hopefully, the commander would be just as compliant.
Presently, a middle-aged man with oil-coiffed hair and an impeccable uniform emerged. His insignias marked him as a captain. His eyes fell on her and widened. He dropped to a knee. “Dian-xia.”
“Rise, Captain,” she said, “and tell me the latest news out of Dongmen Province.”
Standing, the captain’s attention shifted from her to her companions and back. “The last message out of Dongmen was four days ago. The palace has not sent any couriers in this direction in days.”
Four days ago. Right before her escape. Lord Zheng must have cut communications soon after. She cast a sidelong glance at Fu. Hopefully he’d be placated. She turned to the commander, who returned her gaze instead of averting his eyes as protocol demanded. “A Teleri army marches on the capital from Dongmen. Send a rider through the relay stations to confirm that.”
He shook his head. “Dian-xia, this is highly irregular. I must have official authorization.”
“I am the sister of the Tianzi. Do it.” She drew herself up to her full height and glared at him, sending his eyes downward.
He, along with his fellow guards, dropped to a knee, fist to the ground. “Yes, Dian-xia.”
“Send another courier to the palace to inform them of the invasion.”
The captain looked up, his mouth agape. “Before we confirm it?”
“Time is of the essence. Do you not believe a Scion of Heaven?” She squared her shoulders.
“Of course I believe you.” He bowed again. “However, this is just a relay station. I don’t have the official correspondence seals.”
Kaiya placed a hand on her chest. “Have your scribe write it, and I will sign.” Would the relay stations believe it? While the nations of the Arkothi North used signatures and wax imprints, Cathay only used such means for personal correspondence. Probably no one outside her circle of friends and the rebel Lord Peng had even seen her handwriting before.
“Yes, Dian-xia.” The captain beckoned one of his men. “Prepare for a dispatch, both inbound and outbound.”
As the soldier ran off to the stables, she peered west, where the hazy red sun peeked just above the horizon. With an open hand, she waved toward the tower. “Now captain, let us alight the tower and prepare a message.”
If the captain’s mouth could open any wider, he probably still wouldn’t be able to fit his equally large eyes in it. “The light tower hasn’t been used in…in…”
“Never.” Kaiya composed her most grave expression. “My ancestor erected the towers, and since then, Hua has never suffered an invasion. She does now.”
“Yes, Dian-xia. Please follow me.” Holding a bow, the captain beckoned them into the tower.
Kaiya placed a hand over her belly, where her twins grew. It was a long climb up those steps.
With Little Song flanking him, Liang Yu eyed the princess, who sat at the captain’s wooden desk, panting. Surely, a short trip up two flights of spiraling stone stairs should be easy for such a young woman, a dancer no less. Nonetheless, her brow furrowed with unmistakable fatigue. She had not so much as whiffed the tea and egg custard pastry the lieutenant had offered.
Still, tired or not, her poise and authority had captured the tower with only words, and prevented needless bloodshed. Perhaps she was worth much more than any of the nearsighted hereditary lords had thought.
The captain reappeared at the office door and bowed. “Dian-xia, I have sent couriers toward Dongmen.”
Eyes narrowing, she stood and walked around the des
k, interposing herself between Liang Yu and the captain. “What about the capital?”
“Yes, that too.” He scratched his nose, a telltale sign of a lie.
The princess pointed up. “Then let us alight the tower to send the signals.”
“Forgive my impertinence, Dian-xia.” His eyes darted from her to Fu and Song and back. “I will wait until a courier returns before I send the message.”
Such a waste of time. The relay couriers would take at least two hours to reach the border of Dongmen. Not to mention, they weren’t scouts, looking out for enemies. Even if they didn’t get caught, the message to the capital would be delayed for four hours. The princess had already gotten them inside, past the bulk of the garrison. The rest was easy. It was time to channel his inner Surgeon. Shuffling forward a step, Liang Yu grasped both ends of his staff, ready to expose the spear and sword. They didn’t need this capt—
The princess shot her hand back, barring the path to his intended victim. “Captain, I understand your concern. However, every hour we wait gives the imperial armies one less hour to mobilize.”
Chewing on his lip, the captain’s attention shifted from Song to Liang Yu and back to the princess.
Her head tilted, and she ran a hand behind her ear. When she spoke, a breathy, sultry tone replaced her imperial voice. A trick the Beauty had used time and time again. “Please. I will accept full responsibility.”
“I….uh, as the princess commands.” Pupils dilated, the captain sucked on a lip and bowed. What had the nation and its soldiers come to? Apparently, a beautiful woman’s charms could work better than imperial authority these days. The man straightened and strode to a bookshelf. He pulled out thread-bound book and dusted it off.
Liang Yu frowned. If only his old eyes could make out the title on the cover before the captain opened it. “This is no time to read.”
The captain held it up. “These are the codes for the light signals.”
Incompetence! They should know these codes by memory. “I am sure it is not every day that royalty strolls into a watchtower, but—”