by T. A. Miles
“How long will this take?” Shirisae finally asked him.
“It’s not possible to predict the duration of any campaign,” he said without looking at her. “I would expect several weeks, or more.”
Shirisae drew in a breath, releasing it slowly and looking over her shoulder as the voices of the others traveled across the hall from the rooms they all shared. Sharing was in no way unfamiliar to them by now, and in light of that, Shirisae said, “We came together to work with one another. Why must…any of us stay?”
“It is necessary for all of you to become accustomed to the culture of Sheng Fan, and the language,” came the mystic’s ever-sensible answer. “It would not be possible for you to work alongside the people of this land—or to guide them—in ignorance.”
Shirisae allowed him that logic, but only for the moment it took her to feel antagonized by it. “I feel that it would be entirely possible to learn what I must know from you.”
“I cannot take all of you with me,” he said. “I must concentrate on the strategy for alleviating the Empress of the strain of Xun’s rebellion.”
It was then that Shirisae looked into the office at him again. She watched him separating scrolls, putting away those he’d decided against. And then she said, “I was not referring to all of us.”
For a moment, her words caused him to halt all action, but it was only the briefest of moments. He said, “This is because of the Phoenix.”
“You were granted far more than an extension on your life,” she told him, and it was the first time she had told him in so many words. In the moments she had expressed her beliefs to the others, she believed that he also knew. But he had not spoken to her of the Phoenix much since the incident regarding the fragment of dragon scale—an item which he had hidden away somewhere and also made no further mention of yet.
It was with her statement that he finally looked at her, brown eyes lit by the dayglow coming through a nearby window. “What happened to me in Vilciel?” he asked, possibly to clarify the matter in words, now that it had been brought forward directly.
Shirisae had come to his office to clarify it, so she was prepared for his question. In fact, she had come to wield the facts of it in her favor. “You became D’Jenti,” she said.
Saying it sapped some of the defiance from her, instantly and unexpectedly. She began to wonder, for all of her bravery and defiance on the matter in the past, if now she wasn’t just a little afraid of this. She believed she had always known so much about the Phoenix, and what it would tell her while she made a path toward her future as the next Priestess of the Flame. But this was so much different than even the radical notions she had entertained regarding Tristus. It appalled her just how naïve she had been only a short time ago.
In her pondering silence, Xu Liang asked, “What does that mean?”
“The Phoenix is with you now,” she said to him. “It emerged, into the rising phase of a full cycle, in response to the Awakening we mentioned to you well before the attack that made your resurrection necessary. It emerged that night, when all of us came together and Firestorm and Aerkiren became locked. Normally, it would have guided me to take notice of one who would have…important bearing upon my time as priestess.”
Xu Liang was watching her speak, offering no interruption.
Shirisae continued. “I at first believed that individual was Tristus, but I was confused by those present and the power Tristus demonstrated, which saved my culture’s most sacred artifact at the time. I was blind to the power that you also demonstrated, which ultimately led to your sacrifice, and to the Phoenix’s opportunity to restore you. I witnessed the ritual for the first time then. I did not realize that the appearance of the Phoenix and its subsequent dive into your soul was unique. I did not realize that what my mother transferred to you was not merely a blessing of restored life from the Phoenix, but the Phoenix itself. And now, knowing that—as I believe it was my mother’s intention for me to know through this experience—I know that it is my duty to myself and my people to stay by you.”
Xu Liang waited for a space, perhaps to be certain that she had finished. Eventually, he placed the scroll that was in his hands upon the desktop. He said, “We have a duty to one another, and there are many facets to it. The Phoenix is one that you and I share—I admit. It is also one that affects all six of us. I will devote myself to understanding this offering from your god, and I will strive to accept it with honor.”
He bowed, and Shirisae could only wonder what—if anything—she had accomplished.
Upon rising, Xu Liang said, “I have come to the determination that for this study I will require a mentor, and I renege on my previous request. I would ask instead that you accompany me to Fa Leng, and aid me in what is to come.”
Shirisae hesitated to reply, managing only a nod. His agreement offered her no immediate satisfaction. Instead, it filled her with a renewed sense of wonder, and perhaps some trepidation. She’d spent far too many of her years believing that she knew about her god and its ways. Now she was faced with discovery…and she would be lying to herself to say that her interest was solely in the Phoenix.
DAYS AND NIGHTS spent in preparation of their next task as bearers of the Celestial Swords brought all of them—all of them who had met in the west and come to Sheng Fan—finally at a table together. On the eve of his departure, Xu Liang had arranged for a meal of several shared courses to be brought into the dining room of his house, which was quite lovely. Tristus admitted to himself that he found all of the rooms of the house he had visited quite lovely, but what was different about Xu Liang’s dining room was the ornate paneling which lined the walls, the series of articulately framed windows grouped together at the garden-facing wall, the lanterns hung in bronze clusters from the ceiling, and the brush paintings secured to wooden frames and propped along the base of the wall nearest the entry. As well there were some pieces rolled and stored within an elaborate urn. A statue of what Tristus presumed to be a deity stood tall beside them, as if the guardian of some priceless—albeit personal—treasure. Tristus had nearly forgotten the mystic’s hobby with a brush. It was a pity that the majority of the scenes Xu Liang had painted during his quest had been lost on the other side of the sea.
There had been many losses on the Flatlands, and several unanticipated gains as well. Among them, Shirisae and the Phoenix. Of course, Tristus had less to do with either of them than Shirisae had swiftly and—in her way—innocently hoped. He had learned that elves. for all of their reserve and aplomb, were impossible to anticipate and nearly so to understand as well. He supposed, given the ages of both Alere and Shirisae—and the span many elves could live—that they were both still in the process of growing. He supposed that they all were, and it frightened him a little to think about. They had grown together so suddenly, by the swift and strong hand of Heaven. Would they somehow grow apart?
The Alabaster Range came back to him with brutal clarity. He had wandered in exile for only a short time, comparatively, but it was long enough to haunt him. Finding—being found by Xu Liang and the others was a mercy he would not have hoped for, but it filled him with hope and purpose each day. He would pray to not lose either in the vastness of Sheng Fan.
He looked to Xu Liang, whose grace had never faltered in his eyes, not even in moments of evident discomfort brought on by Tristus’ open and irretrievable confession. He could not know why it pained Xu Liang to the degree that it did, but he understood also that the reason behind it was not his business. He had hoped beyond what a rational man—even one with his preferences—would have dared. It had put a noticeable strain on private conversation between them. He felt as if he had somehow trapped Xu Liang—as indelicately as a rabbit’s snare—and he would like nothing better than to free him. He was decided that he would find the words of undoing while Xu Liang was away. He would find those words, he would deliver them, and Xu Liang would be released.
In the corner of his vision was Alere. Tristus turned his face tow
ard the elf and caught his gray gaze. A smile nearly formed on Alere’s pale lips in that instant. Tristus had come to realize that the expression was meant as a gesture of endearment—since it tended to be absent from Alere’s features unless he had made specific or deliberate eye contact with Tristus.
Tristus appreciated it very much. He appreciated Alere very much, and in light of everything—which included the very recent loss of an ally they’d scarcely known—Tristus felt the need to lay a hand on Alere’s arm. He hoped the gesture communicated to the elf half as well as the smiles he’d been receiving from Alere did to him. They were both a long way from what was familiar to them, and they each had been dislodged from their homes by distressing circumstances to begin with. Their ages weren’t quite so distant as Tristus had tried convincing himself once before. He suspected that he and Alere had a tremendous amount in common, or at least a great deal of similarities that may have helped them to care for each other in the way that they did. Tristus was glad that the two of them would not be separated as well. At least, not yet.
“How far away is Fa Leng?” Taya asked from her seat on the other side of Tristus, reminding him that he was also glad to not be parted from her just yet. Small as she may have been, she had provided a tremendous amount of light for Tristus.
“The journey is comparable to the distance from here to the Jung Ho Bridge,” Xu Liang answered.
“So, more than a week,” Taya said.
Xu Liang nodded. “It will be longer traveling with troops.”
“And you’re taking Shirisae with you,” the dwarf maiden said next.
“Yes,” the mystic answered.
“Because of the Phoenix.”
Shirisae looked down at Taya in the seat between her and Tristus, and said, “I recall speaking to you about it before I spoke with Xu Liang.”
“That didn’t mean he agreed to it!” Taya responded in what the non-dwarves among them had come to regard as dwarven exasperation.
“I agreed,” Xu Liang said in conclusion.
Tristus smiled, his hand finally slipping away from Alere’s arm. The elf’s comfortable stillness with such contact made it easy to linger. Raising his cup for a swallow of what was truly a very unique wine, he said to his friends, “I won’t say I’m happy about this—about the seven of us separating, though I know that it must happen. I’ve known the lot of you for not even a year and in all of my years, I don’t know that I’ve loved anyone more.”
Tarfan rolled his eyes, though there was the beginning of a smile behind his semi-wild beard while he listened.
Tristus continued, “You are all my family by now, and in all things I hope for as much success and as little strife as is tolerable in Dryth, and beneath God’s Heaven. –the heavens, as occupied by God and all relations and interpretations thereof.”
The amendment was accepted with an assortment of smiles and tolerant acknowledgments. The blessing was regarded with raised cups, which had been initiated by a widely grinning Tarfan. The dwarf stood on his chair for the occasion, contributing to it with words of his own.
“Luck and beauty to all the children,” he said. “And to the elders…pity, and in no small amount.”
Tarfan’s comment inspired laughter, even from Xu Liang—and even from Alere, though both of them had a reserved way at sharing their joy with the use of such vocalization. Shirisae did not, however, and had no qualms with showing all of them her lovely white teeth in the process. Guang Ci smiled broadly, but only after what was said had been shared with him by Huang Shang-san.
The elder Fanese man was proving to be an able language instructor, once they’d sorted the dialects and agreed upon the best form to study. That said, Tristus had learned very little of the language yet beyond some few words of interest. He’d learned that Sheng Fan was ‘The Land of Ancestors’ and that Liang meant ‘little dragon’. Truthfully, he would have determined on his own that the mystic’s given name would translate as some description of brilliance or beauty—or both. He found the actual meaning humbling, and interesting, since the question had come by way of learning of a sibling continent to the east of Sheng Fan that had been lost to a violent sea ages ago. Sheng Li, it had been called… ‘The Land of Dragons’. The history and legend of Sheng Fan was of particular interest, Tristus had to admit. He appreciated that he would learn the language by way of both aspects of the culture.
“The campaigns ahead of us will be treacherous,” Xu Liang said, recapturing Tristus’ attention in full. “We must all use caution and judgment on our path. Though the destination is peace, the way will be long and arduous. Others will be relying on our guidance, and the Empress will be relying on our continued support. I am grateful to you on her behalf, and I am personally indebted to each of you.”
Alere raised his cup next and said in elvish, “Aen arydd kiron.”
It was Shirisae who translated, “Until the heavens part, we will be united.”
All of them raised their cups once more; the bearers, two dwarves, an elder official, and four bodyguards. This was the first company they would all be in together along the road to peace. Tristus would ask for no one else, though he looked forward to welcoming those who would join them.
Departures
MORNING ARRIVED after a light predawn rain. Alere had risen immediately, and after dressing for the day, carried himself to the stable that lay adjacent to the row of houses Xu Liang’s home stood amongst. The building for the animals was quite long and tall, with dramatically curving eaves, flowing rows of red roof tiles, and black columns. The compartments were deep enough for more than one horse, accessible through front-facing gates. An archway that ran through the center of the wide building provided access toward further yard and buildings that may have been residential. This section of the city’s north court appeared to be housing for officials, particularly those of prominent station. The five houses adjoined—and including Xu Liang’s—all were tall and adorned with separate courtyards as well as gardens. The stable house was shared in a similar fashion, with each resident’s animals occupying a separate though spacious compartment of the whole. Alere had made a habit of visiting the animals once or twice a day, most often in the company of one of Xu Liang’s bodyguards, though not always.
The Imperial City of Sheng Fan was not a place of locked doors, and not all of them were guarded. Alere felt less concerned with stealth since the dragon. Their efforts had made it clear that they were not an enemy of Sheng Fan’s people. He understood that that would not be immediately accepted by all, but the eyes on him within the city were less wary or suspicious, at least. The elder general, Yuo Shang appeared to regard everyone with some suspicion simply as a matter of course, but it was not an unfamiliar personality to Alere. Tristus didn’t appear surprised or bothered by him either, concluding that many—if not all militaries—seemed to have at least one such representative.
Within the stable, Alere stood beneath a high roof and stout crossbeams with stalls lined to one side of him and a spacious area for storage of supplies, tools, and two forms of carriage on the other. Breigh recognized his entrance and was already at the gate. He went to her and took her head in both hands while she lowered it, laying his face against her soft pelt. Kirlothden leaned his massive head through the opening of his stall and Alere reached a hand over to stroke the destrier’s chin. Sylvashen occupied the stall on the other side of Briegh and had elected not to show himself just yet. Past the red was Blue Crane, observing out of reach. There were nine stalls altogether, originally for Xu Liang’s mount and one for each of his guards, Alere presumed. The five remaining were occupied by the black beasts brought back from Vilciel for the surviving guards. The yak had been sold, Alere suspected, since Xu Liang had no need of one on a daily basis within his home. The animal they had acquired from the fallen pyromancer had presumably been given to Xu Liang’s empress. That was recognizable and customary behavior practiced in Yvaria as well. Only mercenaries laid claim to what was acquired or abandoned a
fter a battle.
While serving the household of Lord Doriel—one of the few remaining intact houses of the Verressi elves—Alere had kept only what was his to begin with and what was otherwise granted him by Doriel. His needs then had been living space for his family, all of whom were too young to live on their own and too many for Alere to protect alone at the time. They were old enough now, he affirmed to himself. He thought about them often at night and in the morning—during the quiet times. He would return to them once he had completed his task in Sheng Fan.
Even with the death of the dragon that had been lurking beneath the city, he felt he had only witnessed another mere portion of the greater picture. The keirveshen had infested Dryth. Their numbers continued to grow. Their infection continued to spread, affecting men and beasts indiscriminately. Alere believed that the dragon had once been a more innocent creature—a cave dragon, perhaps—and that the shadows had warped it. It may have been that such a creature had also been dwelling in the cave in the Aeran woods, lying in the depths while the centaurs set traps in the mouth of its home for passersby. Alere had not determined for himself yet whether or not the centaurs were afflicted by the darkness of the keirveshen themselves, or if they were naturally such a fierce group.
The gate opened. Wan Yun, Gai Ping, Cai Zheng Rui, and Shi Dian entered. They were dressed in layers of armor, as they had been when met in the forests of Yvaria. It was time for them to travel with their master once again. Their numbers had not been replenished since the loss of their fellows. Alere wondered if Xu Liang would acquire more from the army that he would be leading, or if more guards had already been assigned and would be falling in step with their peers upon the mystic’s departure.