by T. A. Miles
At the base of the steps, Shirisae found that there was another chain on the other side. Finding her gloves, she put them on and took hold of both chains before beginning to scale the stair. It was a strain to her legs that could not be ignored and she decided that no aging scholar had ever made the journey.
IT HAD BEEN some time since Xu Liang had taken the path to the school. The chains were impossible to hold without some pain, not all of it owed to any weakness before or after the resurrection. The metal he was required to grip while pulling his weight was simply hard on his skin. He recalled that the climb had hardened his hands each time he’d made it in the past, but never in a lasting sense and never so aggressively as the winds of the Northern Flatlands had bitten.
Above him, Shirisae climbed with a rhythmic ease to her movement, as if it were hardly more challenge than a stair that was less vertical than this one happened to be. He would have doubted the endurance of none of those he had traveled the outer realms with, but by now he was especially unsurprised by the capabilities of elves. He had come to love both of the ones he knew far more than he would have predicted months ago. In many ways the Swords were responsible and therefore so were the gods, but he would not credit them entirely, any more than he would have blamed them entirely had all of it failed. The path to destiny had many turns, and they had all made choices.
The gods did not make choices for individuals, but rather, they set out opportunities. And each of those opportunities, no matter how one acted upon them, was accompanied by consequence.
CHE WEN TAI stood within the Iron Pavilion. The entrance was flanked by two iron horses, each rearing over a sphere that was painted gold. Red columns and, low black lattice railing surrounded the structure’s stone base, which met with the tops of trees which flanked the high center ridge of the mountaintop. A path of stairs led down from the northernmost structure of the school, into the trees and toward the mountain’s edge, where two bodies climbed the steep way that would end their journey from the gorge. The spirit of one was recognizable for miles; familiar and grown even beyond what Che Wen Tai had aspired to see in the young man. The other soul was new to him and to the country, but older to the world than many in Sheng Fan. The guiding hands of the gods hovered over both of them.
It was time to end the silence.
“Who are the wolves, Xu Liang?” Che Wen Tai said to the wind. “And who are the vultures?”
School of the Seven Mystics
DING FA WAS not as tall as Ding Zhu, but it was high enough to be considered one of the Fingers of the Earth. Its apex lay beneath the foundation of the Temple of the Encompassing Sphere, which was the main structure of the school. Surrounding the temple and its immediate grounds were eight pavilions situated upon the mountaintop’s distantly connected surface area. The two leading up to the temple on its north side shared the most significant amount of space with the temple while the east and west sides each extended toward four flanking and somewhat separated pillars of rock that were connected by bridge and stair. In a similar fashion, the final pair lay aligned on the south side of the elevated complex.
Xu Liang and Shirisae took some time to rest after completing the steepest part of the ascent, then began up the less exaggerated stairs which would bring them to the Iron Pavilion. When the statues of the horses came into view, Xu Liang took it upon himself to explain the relevance to Shirisae. “Horses are a symbol of bravery and endurance, as resolute and difficult to break as iron.”
“I understand why Tristus received that title,” Shirisae replied. “I’ve noticed that the orbs are consistently placed at many Fanese structures. What is their significance?”
“They are symbolic of the infinite wisdom of the Jade Emperor,” Xu Liang replied.
“Your people see eternity in a contained form,” Shirisae said with confusion that was understandable, considering her perspective.
“Perfection is a sphere,” Xu Liang explained. “There is no side greater. It is continuous and the same. It is the marriage of order and reason.”
“And its placement reminds people to uphold the ideal,” Shirisae presumed.
Xu Liang nodded, because it was correct in part. “Yes. It is meant to inspire one to always do one’s best and to realize that even the most complicated of tasks may be accomplished with the simplest of deeds.”
“Such as speaking one’s mind,” Shirisae said, “over excessive debating and procrastination.”
Xu Liang believed he knew what she was alluding to, and in many ways, he agreed. “The presence of spheres reminds us also to take guidance from our superiors.” While the words formed, he noticed the green-robed elder with white hair waiting within the pavilion, standing as Xu Liang had seen him within a dream.
“Is that one of the masters?” Shirisae asked.
“He is Master Che Wen Tai,” Xu Liang answered. “The Supreme Astralmancer and the eldest and wisest of the Seven Mystics.”
“How old is eldest?” Shirisae asked next.
Xu Liang didn’t answer that particular question immediately, and by the time they’d crested the first flight of stairs to reach the Iron Pavilion, the elder had decided to do so himself.
“I am not as old as you, fire blossom of the west,” Che Wen Tai said. “But I am yet an ancient.”
The astralmancer bowed at the waist in greeting. Xu Liang did as well with Shirisae mimicking the gesture belatedly.
“Come with me,” the elder invited.
Shirisae waited to speak until Che Wen Tai turned and crossed the floor of the enclosure, where the next series of steps to the following pavilion and the temple behind it stood dappled in the shadows of bent trees with clustered leaves. “He speaks Yvarian,” the elf said.
“An astralmancer is able to communicate spiritually,” Xu Liang explained, taking steps after the elder. “The soul has no language, but knows every language.”
Shirisae lingered behind for a moment, which inspired Xu Liang to turn back to face her. At that point, she asked, “Have you ever done that?”
“Yes,” Xu Liang answered truthfully.
Shirisae tipped her face both inquisitively and somewhat defiantly. “Then why go through the motions of learning a language?”
“Spiritual extension is not permanent,” he said. “And what is experienced during contact becomes a knowledge of events, similar to dreaming. One does not acquire skills or abilities with such contact.”
Shirisae’s gaze went to Che Wen Tai while she considered that information, and then she looked at Xu Liang again. “When did you do it?”
“Months ago, on the Lower Flatlands.”
“Do you recall what was said between myself, my brother, and Alere?” she asked, deducing what the event had been accurately.
“Yes.”
“But not in elvish.”
“Not in elvish,” Xu Liang confirmed, and he held his hand out to her. “We must not keep Che Wen Tai waiting.”
Shirisae took his hand and he guided her up to his step before their hands separated again. They walked together through the Iron Pavilion. The view to either side was of trees and the neighboring mountains. A stone bridge waited across the pavilion floor, arcing toward another set of stairs, this one much shorter than the first and which brought them to the Stone Pavilion. The structure of the second was similar to the one before it, but the pillars were painted green while the lattice was gold. In the center stood a golden statue of a tortoise with a sphere upon its back, symbolic of the carrying of knowledge and wisdom, and of fortification and protection.
The Stone Pavilion also served as the gateway to the main grounds of the school. A descending staircase to either side led to the west and east courtyards, and to the libraries, houses and kitchens located beneath the temple. Directly ahead was a second bridge, which offered access to the temple itself. A railing of articulated stone design rimmed the outer floor of the primary structure. Columns of red supported gilded eaves adorned with red tiles. The peak of the roof was hom
e to statues of lions aligned at the center while the corners were mounted with dragons and phoenixes set opposite each other. Flourishing symbols of the elements were painted upon the crossbeams and trim of the temple while the outer wall was of lacquered wood panels and gold filigree.
Che Wen Tai stood before the open temple doors, the statue of a sphere-protecting lion to each side of him. Again he appeared reminiscent to the depiction of him Xu Liang had witnessed in his dream. The significant difference was that the Temple of Divine Tranquility had been the backdrop in his subconscious. He realized now that, in the dream, the temple had been symbolically destroyed by blood and fire. Blood was shed that day in the court where the temple stood and life had been lost lost; Jiao Ren, consumed by the fire of the gods not far from where the Temple of Divine Tranquility lay in ruin.
The Supreme Astralmancer looked at Xu Liang in the moments such thoughts were forming. Though his eyes were pale and somewhat purpled over the brown they had once been, due to his extreme age, Xu Liang did not question his vision. Even afflicted by total physical blindness, there would be no doubt over whether or not Che Wen Tai could see. It might have been argued that he could see clearer.
“You have not come here for meditation or study,” Che Wen Tai stated.
“No,” Xu Liang answered. “I have not.”
“You must come with me,” the elder said next. He did not look at Shirisae when he added, “You must come alone.”
Once again, Xu Liang bowed. He remained low until the elder had turned from them and entered the temple. With his gaze following the astralmancer ahead of the rest of him, Xu Liang said, “Please, wait for me.”
“I will,” Shirisae promised.
Xu Liang thanked her and proceeded onward alone, through the doors of the Temple of the Encompassing Sphere.
SHIRISAE WATCHED Xu Liang depart after the old man, the ends of his robes and hair trailing after him neatly. When he had left her view, she looked up at the roof of the temple and to the sky. The clouds were present, hovering overhead and embracing the lower tiers of the cliffs. She wondered what had become of the dragon, where it might have been headed and why.
The thought was let go of when she detected movement in the corner of her vision. She looked in the direction it had come from—to her right—and stepped off the stairs and fully onto the temple platform. She followed the path between the stone railing and the columns, coming to a halt when the movement occurred again; a dark flutter. A bird soon hopped fully into view from its perch upon the far corner of the railing. Beyond the smallish creature, whose beak appeared a brilliant orange against its dark feathers, was a banner snapping erratically in the wind. The flag seemed to be floating over the treetops that surrounded the school, until she took enough steps toward it to see that there was a shorter cliff set out from the main body of rock, which anchored the base of the banner’s pole. Upon that isolated cliff stood another pavilion. There was a lengthy stair leading down to it off the wide ledge of the temple, but Shirisae refrained from investigation. She had not been invited to do so, and she saw no need for it, beyond the satisfaction of curiosity.
Instead, she merely walked to the corner where the bird was perched—it left the moment she drew too near to it—and looked toward the back side of the temple in an attempt to take in more of it visually. She saw another pavilion, this one elevated off the back west corner of the central complex, accessible on its natural tower once again by stair. This one had no banner flying, which told her not much of anything, but she would note it for later questions once Xu Liang returned.
WITHIN THE TEMPLE, Xu Liang crossed a wooden floor, coming immediately upon the centralized shrine to the spirits of the elements. He was compelled to stop long enough to say a quick prayer to the Spirit of the Wind and also to his ancestors. In the process, a light wind passed through the long space, pulling gently at his hair and redirecting strands of incense smoke away from the temple’s many hung censers. The flowing aroma was of spice, flowers, and grasses found throughout the region. They were the smells thought to invoke clarity and focus, and were emulated in all temples and places of study throughout Sheng Fan. Xu Liang found it comfortable, even if somewhat pungent.
Raising his head from prayer, he stepped away from the shrine, following the low partition of carved jade around the articulated layering of painted boxes and miniature statues which constituted the shrine to the spirits. At either end of the long hall were banners depicting the birth of the elements, a chapter of the creation of Sheng Fan which also included the dragon Chaos. However, Chaos was not specifically mentioned in legends studied at the school.
Xu Liang had begun to feel that many things had been omitted from his study of the mystic arts. He did not feel that it was a malicious withholding; the school had a philosophy and a directive which did not necessarily companion successfully with the heavenly writings. It was, as many aspects of their political and educational culture, a celestial institution. While heavenly tended to refer to the Jade Emperor, and was ultimate, celestial tended to refer to the Jade Emperor’s creation, and was a balance of elements and entities, which included men. The Dragon had been overlooked in many of their teachings, which was the reason Song Bao requested that it be researched.
It was that last thought which inspired Xu Liang to ask Che Wen Tai, when he located him at the open south doors of the temple, “Were the Mystics aware of the dragon that had been lying for an untold amount of time beneath the Temple of Divine Tranquility?”
“Ah,” said the elder, faced away from Xu Liang. “You have come as Imperial Tactician.”
“I have,” Xu Liang confirmed, bowing to the astralmancer’s turned back. “Forgive my insistence, but I must have answers. Over the years, the Supreme Mystics have lost interest in the Temple of Divine Tranquility and pilgrimages to and from the Imperial City seem to have ceased. The Supreme Geomancer has participated in heinous criminal action against the Empire. He has fled from the Imperial City and become a fugitive. These are not deeds one would anticipate from either a master of the school or the Chancellor of the Imperial Court. Please, help me to understand what has led to the abandonment.”
“Abandonment is not a destination, but a path, Xu Liang,” Che Wen Tai said. “You must ask yourself if you are on such a path as well.”
Xu Liang frowned, straightening slowly. He studied the astralmancer’s pose in the wide doorway, one wizened hand upon the frame while the other was folded loosely behind his back. His stance almost seemed one of tentativeness, as if he felt some instability that might demand of him to depart at any moment.
“I once dreamt of such a statement being made by you,” Xu Liang said.
“You have walked the path of a prodigy,” Che Wen Tai said, repeating the words from the dream. Whether it was accidental or deliberate, the elder gave no firm indication.
“It is not I who have been guided directly by the Heavens,” Xu Liang answered, making another attempt to determine whether or not the astralmancer had, or was intending to reference, a dream they might well have shared.
“You carry with you the companion-beast of Qao Shen,” the elder stated, confirming that he had at least witnessed Xu Liang’s dreams, if not visited them directly.
His statement, in its essential form, could not be denied.
“Yes,” Xu Liang replied. “The Phoenix is with me.”
“I have often wondered if you are an incarnation of the Wind Spirit,” Che Wen Tai murmured, bringing age forward with his voice in that moment. He sounded tired. “I have also wondered whether or not you were a son of gods, put upon this plane in your infant stages…awakening slowly.”
“I am no such thing,” Xu Liang assured, and he also bowed out of respect for the elder’s advanced years and intuition. “I am mortal, and have mortal weaknesses as well as strength inspired by mortal fear. I have been your student, and the student of the late Master Heiaofu Ce. I am the son of Xu Mi and Xu Hong, and a servant of the Empire.”
&n
bsp; “Your influence is beyond servant,” Che Wen Tai responded. He walked away afterward, but only in spirit.
Xu Liang looked at the entryway for several moments before finally walking to the space the elder’s physical form continued to occupy. He watched as spirit of Che Wen Tai headed for the stairs which ascended toward the Wisdom Pavilion, directly behind the temple. Flanking slightly lower to the east and west were the Sky and Rain Pavilions respectively. Xu Liang had meditated for many long hours within the Sky Pavilion during the earliest stages of learning his craft. A banner fluttered against the wind now, marking the absence of a master. He had never known for certain what had happened to inspire the invitation that had been extended to him in the past. He still was uncertain whether or not it had been a voluntary departure on the part of Heiaofu Ce—some mystics took up hermitage in order to achieve what they felt was a form of spiritual innocence and therefor pureness—or if it had been death.
Che Wen Tai paused just then to look over his shoulder at Xu Liang.
Xu Liang took that to mean that it had been death which had taken his former master from the school. Of course, Xu Liang had not been taught by only one master. Even without accepting the path of astralmancy in a focused sense, he had still received much guidance from Master Che Wen Tai.
“You are my most surpassing student,” the elder said, after Xu Liang had joined him at the threshold of the Wisdom Pavilion. He had not done so in body, but in spirit.
Xu Liang remained still in the ephemeral atmosphere of a dream that was no dream. The colors of the mountains and the sky bled together, shifting gradually, like the gathering of storm clouds. The structure of the pavilion remained constant, but was nearly as a shadow of itself. Xu Liang would not move forward beyond the steps he had already taken until he felt that he was properly tethered by his consciousness to his physical form. He had done this before, though often only briefly and thoroughly prepared. He had not felt prepared enough since the ice giant had thrown him from the strongest meditative state he had ever manifested.