by T. A. Miles
They came to a curve that opened the path over a lower area of neighboring cliffs, visible beneath the pressing light of a veiled moon. The clouds above were reflected below in the form of mist rolling across the tops of trees. The unevenness had the mist sectioning around it, sinking into the gorge below, as water spilling over rocks. The wind, as the path moved around the mountain, lifted Xu Liang’s hair erratically. Turning his head to redirect the strands had him notice that Shirisae had stopped to view the setting. He stopped as well, allowing her the moment.
On the chance that the moment was not specifically owed to the landscape, Xu Liang asked, “Are you tired?”
“No,” Shirisae said at once, more truthful than stubborn, based upon Xu Liang’s experience with both tones from her. “I wanted to watch for a moment.”
Xu Liang nodded, then stepped to the railing to join her. “The robes of Mei Qiao,” he offered, gesturing toward the cascading glow of the moonlight upon the mist.
“Ysis’ veil,” Shirisae offered in return.
Xu Liang was prepared for the comparison. “So I have been told.”
“By Alere,” Shirisae said. Her tone had become gentle. “Do you know that he loves Tristus with fullness of heart that is typically reserved for lovers?”
“Yes,” Xu Liang answered. He prepared himself for the ensuing topic of Tristus’ interest, which he doubted had gone unnoticed by Shirisae. The tension of unfortunate stress manifested near immediately, a double-edged blade of guilt for what he could not return and shame for having in some way misled a dear friend and trusted ally.
The fire elf’s voice grew gentler still, and she said, “Do you know that I love you in the same way?”
A mild tremor coursed through Xu Liang’s hands, chasing after the anticipation which had mounted…and then left. In its wake, he was left with not a double-edged blade, but two sides of admission. It was perhaps the most foreign feeling that had ever touched upon his senses. He had been struggling against dignifying it for the better part of a day; the evidence that Shirisae had formed such affection for him, which in its manifestation brought form to the shapeless and previously unrecognizable hope that had been ignited the moment Shirisae had symbolically touched his pain during the journey to the Imperial City.
He raised his hand to Shirisae’s shoulder, his fingers settling tentatively against her red hair. Comfort and fear competed to take hold of his senses, skittishly paralleling one another like carp following a stream. He waited for the pain in his chest that tended to accompany stress or exertion, but the complaint he expected came more as a clearing breath.
Shirisae turned toward him then, settling her face upon his shoulder. The gesture inspired him to lift his other arm around her, his hand coming to rest at the back of her head. A tremendous surge of love for the individual before him broke upon the shores of his senses, his sentiments, and his sensibilities in that moment. It did significant damage to the barriers previously constructed there, and in the process it brought as much fear as optimism.
The Clouded Path
THE WALK UP the mountain continued for perhaps another hour after the extended pause Shirisae and Xu Liang had taken. It was a moment of mutual acknowledgment that quelled all of the frustration she had been collecting since the start of the campaign march. Her search for answers about the Phoenix’s choice had led to the discovery of a man whose internal beauty astonished her even beyond his physical grace. She hoped to continue to discover. Though a new silence had come over them since their embrace, she was not discouraged. Undoubtedly, Xu Liang would require time to reason. He was not a man of impulse, but more importantly, he was not a man of surrender. Not even the Phoenix had been able to wrest control over his wont to rationalize and consider ahead of every action. When Xu Liang did behave with abandon, it seemed to occur in surges of passion and determination that he still managed to solely own. Rather than being taken or overwhelmed by any other source, he seemed in those moments to be rebelling against himself. She believed those were also the moments of significant growth for him, where he expanded his sphere of presence and influence through defiance against limitation, whether that limitation had been set by himself or by others.
Shirisae understood fully why the Phoenix had chosen him. She had chosen him for the same reasons.
Arriving at a small shelter along the path—a structure that appeared a miniature form of the pavilions at the Imperial City and which perched in defiance of its harsh and elevated landscape—they stopped to lay out their bedrolls. Xu Liang placed the lantern on the wooden floor between them, then settled in a sitting position, as if he planned to meditate rather than sleep.
Shirisae laid herself down and watched him. “How much farther is it to the school?” she eventually asked.
“Far enough that we will wait until morning to complete the journey,” he replied.
Childish, though it may have been, the very sound of his voice inspired her to smile just now. She was filled with such anticipation for what may come, now that she had driven them past the point of confusion. She had strived to avoid the clumsy insistence of her past actions in her hope to stress that what she felt now was not the same as what she had once decided she could feel if the Phoenix decreed it. The Phoenix had decreed nothing in this instance; it had lit a path which led her here and a part of her realized that was probably how it was supposed to have happened anyway. And now that it had happened that way—or begun to—she felt less enthusiastic about the Phoenix’s role.
At the end of those thoughts, Xu Liang laid himself down as well. She wondered if he had taken a moment to pray or if it had simply been to collect his thoughts. And then she wondered what those thoughts had included.
Shirisae lingered on her side to observe his features in the lantern light, which was when the mystic rose just enough to extinguish the lantern’s flame. In the darkness, she smiled, pleased that neither his behavior nor his demeanor had changed over what they had begun to learn.
THE SOUND OF RAIN pervaded Xu Liang’s subconscious while he dreamed. His awareness of the weather also seemed to enhance his awareness of the pavilion he and Shirisae had occupied for shelter. The edges of the structure lingered around him while he looked across a field of clouds in the loose shapes of buildings. He stepped toward the edge of the pavilion’s eaves and looked upon a stair following a vertical cliff face. Branches adorned with clumping sections of leaves fanned over the stair, reaching toward the cloudscape and the stars and moon behind it.
The setting held a familiar greening silver cast. He stepped from the pavilion and onto a path which led to the staircase. The steps were only of marginal interest to him; he suspected it was symbolic of the path to the school, drawn from his memory of the steeper parts of it. Instead, Xu Liang found his focus behind him, as he looked over his shoulder and onto the pavilion roof, where the fire-traced form of the Phoenix perched. It appeared larger than the structure should have been able to sustain, poised forward with tails curving around its form of both feathers and scales. Its wings were folded, so Xu Liang felt safe to assume it was not in an aggressive mood.
Turning from the god-beast, Xu Liang considered the stairs…that they were an illusion. With a gesture of his hand, he called upon the winds, more easily than such spells were cast while awake. The cloud layers shifted, sliding away from the structures they had covered, which were now portrayed in ruin. The ground before him held a gray-green tint, a darker green and black shading the dimensions of houses, palaces, and temples that were without life. The shudders clung loosely to darkened windows. Roof tiles had slid to the ground, where they lay in broken piles. Columns were stripped of their color and marred with splintered scars. Doors loomed half open onto soulless blackness. It was a scene of decay.
Xu Liang stepped further from the pavilion. A fox ran across his path, inspiring him to stop. He attempted to follow it visually, but it disappeared from his perception, as if an illusion, losing itself in the mist which lingered along th
e edges of the ruins. When he brought his gaze back, his attention was drawn to the stairs, where a figure stood in scholar robes, long hair billowing in the mountain current. The individual was too far away to discern features, but Xu Liang noticed a red cord which appeared caught on the wind. It arced fitfully in the direction of the ruins. Xu Liang’s gaze traced it to one house in particular, and stepped toward it.
The sound of rain and some thunder shifted across the dry air while Xu Liang walked. As he moved the ground took on puddles, though there was still no visible rainfall. Drops of what wasn’t there actively disrupted the surfaces. He continued to the house, taking note of the vulture that arrived in the yard. It landed lightly, hopping several times before it settled, tucking its gray wings.
At the stoop, Xu Liang paused, laying a hand on the nearest pillar, which was badly scraped. He looked toward the stairs, where the robed figure remained, having turned to observe from their height. The red arc of rope was no longer visible.
Xu Liang stepped onto the stoop and ducked through the low doorway, into a shadowed room. The small entry led immediately to the left, where a sunken floor housed only darkness and the barest tracings of the room’s furniture and dimensions. What he could see appeared to have suffered many long years of neglect. He continued inside, avoiding a hanging lantern.
The sound of a bell tolled outside. Xu Liang turned his head to better listen. The solemn peal was accompanied by a chorus of crows. Inside, a flash of movement and the sounds of a dog’s heavy breathing drew Xu Liang’s attention across the main room, where the silhouette of a large wolf plodded along behind a partition and narrow columns before disappearing.
Instinct affected him in the dream and had him lift his hand to Pearl Moon’s hilt, but the sword was absent. He considered leaving, but the bell sounded again and in the same moment Xu Liang was turning to go, he caught sight of a curious emblem on the floor. Stepping down from the entry, he stooped to see the shape in the darkness.
It was in the shape of a tree with a spindly bole and far-reaching limbs. Crouching down beside it, Xu Liang observed it disappear from view, chased by a familiar green fire.
“Xu Liang.” He heard Shirisae speak his name, and felt her hand on his arm. He turned to respond, which brought him out of the dream.
Shirisae hovered over him. The sound of water dripping off of the pavilion’s awning surrounded them, joined by light rolls of thunder. The thunder sounded very nearby.
Xu Liang sat upright, looking out at the predawn sky, still stained a deep blue by night’s passing. Clouds were drifting sluggishly by—perhaps a storm was building below them. He looked to the elf to inquire what had inspired her to wake him, and that was when he heard the rolling thunder again, only it sounded more like a breath.
He glanced down to the Moon Blade, lying on the floor beside him, then to the Storm Blade propped against the rail nearby. Both weapons gave only the mild glow of being near to one another. That fact provided only a little solace in light of what he suspected was close by.
Xu Liang rose to his feet and stepped toward the sky-facing side of the pavilion. The clouds continued to move, carried by a tepid wind that smelled of rain, but also of animal—as if the scents of the river had been drawn up from the gorge. Xu Liang looked up at the sky, observing a thick layer of cloud that was sinking slowly, arcing downward over the pavilion. The size of the cloud alone would have been breathtaking, and eerie in its movements that almost appeared calculated. Anticipating what it concealed was fully halting.
Shirisae arrived beside Xu Liang and they watched together as the maned head of a dragon pressed through the heavy veil of clouds. Its face hovered near, easily twice the height of the pavilion. Its neck was thick and strong, forming a gleaming arc toward its body. Long eyes that appeared to reflect the colors of the mountains held the pavilion and its occupants briefly in their ancient and intelligent gaze, offering the merest moment of recognition.
And then the giant creature’s maw opened, releasing a sound like thunder and also tremendous plumes of steam that rapidly unfurled as the dragon pushed onward. The vaporous cover rolled off of the dragon’s pearlescent scales that varied in tone from bluish-silver, to gray and white, as if off of the very mountain the beast was visiting. The air became warmer and heavy with moisture as the dragon’s breath manifested clouds while it seemed to dive into an ocean of sky. Clouds tumbled over the dragon’s form, like waves while it moved, chased by a tremendous length of tail that was lined with the extension of its mane, skimming the textured air.
It had scarcely looked at them or the pavilion in its passing, but in the instant it did, Xu Liang felt the scale of its presence. He wondered afterward if it had been visiting the mountain, or if it had awakened from it. The encounter reminded him of the dragon at sea and now he couldn’t help but to think that maybe that dragon had been awakened as well.
Xu Liang watched the current beast’s form sink into lower clouds, hoping that the men below would not be harmed and that if they should be made witness to the dragon that they would not attempt to harm it.
SLEEP WAS NOT something either Shirisae or Xu Liang intended to have after the encounter with the cloud dragon. Shirisae had not previously been aware that cloud dragons existed as a group. She wondered now if they dwelled in the region of Vilciel, disguised within the environment, just as this one had been. It would seem likely, though, that the griffins would detect their presence, even if her people failed to. Regardless, the moment had been impressive and seemed further sign of a greater awakening throughout Dryth. Thankfully, the beast had extended no threat. A creature that size could have brought down the path with scarcely an effort.
“We must not stay long at the school,” Xu Liang said over their small breakfast. “I would return to the troops now, but that there are pressing topics that I must discuss with Master Che Wen Tai. I shall keep my questions brief.”
Shirisae understood that he was speaking primarily for his own benefit. Still, she nodded. When they had finished eating, they packed within a few moments and were once again climbing the mountain path.
The route was as treacherous as the road to Vilciel, which was not something often taken by foot. The setting was very different, intriguing with its simple aesthetic. It wasn’t until they ran out of lattice railing and sporadically covered walkways that she came to realize just how much of a danger the trek happened to be.
“And there are elders among them?” Shirisae asked, standing at the threshold of a ledge with no railing, only a chain that was strung along the rock face, upheld by metal rings that had been periodically embedded into the rock.
“Yes,” Xu Liang replied, as if that were all that needed to be said.
Shirisae smiled to herself, partly amused and partly aggravated by the potential hazard in front of her. She did not doubt her footing, nor did she fear for Xu Liang’s balance. Still, she had to wonder how many travelers had gotten no farther.
“Ding Zhu is a harder path,” Xu Liang told her after they started onto the ledge.
Shirisae used the chain for guidance more than to grip. “That’s the location of one of the oracles?” she asked to confirm.
“The Eastern Oracle,” he reminded.
“Your leaders are a very courageous class of people,” she commented. “To go to such lengths for advice from a seer.”
It was difficult for her to envision such a young woman as the Empress making such a journey. She considered afterward that some might have had difficulty picturing any woman making the journey. That provided her an image of D’mitri’s expression in the face of any human doubting his sister. It brought her smile back, until she considered his tone if—when faced with her love for Xu Liang. Before the idea could plant any seeds of worry, she reminded her twin over the vast distance between them that they both knew the Phoenix might lead her to a human consort. Their mother had tried leaning her toward the notion of an elf from another region—and might have held some hope for Alere—but
Shirisae had always known it would not be an elf consort on her cycle.
How hard would Alere have fought all of them, if that had been the Phoenix’s decree? Shirisae believed that in that event, both of them would have defied the gods openly. It wasn’t that she despised Alere—and she didn’t believe that he truly despised her. It was that, he was very young yet—younger even than her—and he had so much to learn on his own. The gods had another destiny in store for their Verressi hunter. Shirisae believed that, and she believed that he would resist connection to most who crossed his path, even now, because he had lost so much already, and he feared losing his hold on what had been left to him. He blamed the keirveshen first and foremost. They were his enemy overall and she believed that he had almost come to covet the conflict he had with them, because dark as it was, it kept him connected to what had been taken from him. He was a child of death in the purest sense. There were times when Shirisae had pitied him, but now she resented his insistence on remaining connected to death. It had given her some hope for him that he had opened to Xu Liang. It was a step away from his ghosts, and toward life.
A dense layer of growth ahead had her slow down. She wondered if the path had deteriorated and started to look back at Xu Liang, but then she noticed the chains threading upward. They lined what appeared to be stairs, but they were the most vertical application of them she had ever seen, cut directly into the rock.
“We’re nearly there,” Xu Liang let her know.
“I’m glad,” Shirisae said, because she was beginning to feel somewhat taxed by the climb, and she suspected he was also.