Five Kingdoms (25 page)

Ma Shou had seen the red horse kick its hooves upon his skull and bones. Summoning death from his body could not have undone the damage. He might have tried to speak to Zhen Yu, to see just how intact his mind was, but the pirate was not currently in the tent with him.

“He is…nearly useless,” came the dual voice of the necromancer. The chord of registers seemed to fall heaviest on the male, but the female crept along its edges. Even when it seemed to have dissipated in sound, it’s influence pulled at the inflections of its sibling tone.

Ma Shou could not move his thoughts from the notion that this mystic was also a demon, or that it was a demon using the label of mystic as a guise. He became so enrapt in considering that a denizen of the Infernal Regions had surfaced at the bank of the Tunghui that the words of the necromancer’s companion startled him.

“Shall I be rid of him?”

Ma Shou felt a flare of panic within him. Was he the useless one the necromancer spoke of? His mind scrambled over quick thoughts on how he might present himself of more service or benefit. But how could he? He had no knowledge of what it was Lei Kui wanted, or had potentially traveled from the hells to accomplish.

“How is the other?” Lei Kui inquired.

To which Guo Sen said, “He is recovering from his damage. The burns are largely superficial, though they will likely leave scars.”

Ma Shou’s fingers raised to his face, gliding over unevenness and in some places, tenderness. He felt fully that his hair also did not weigh nor did it sit as it once did. The majority of the tail was gone, the ends coarse and brittle. The length was erratic around his face, and he was only able to locate soft growth very close to his scalp. He’d known he was going to have to cut it in order to disguise himself since Xu Liang and others had witnessed him. They’d witnessed him and he had not accomplished what he set out to do, which meant that he was now a fugitive as well as a rogue. He had a fleeting hope of escaping and finding a rebel liege in one of the kingdoms actively opposing the Song. It would require much effort to find new clothes and remake himself enough to be valued by anyone of station.

“I will make my determinations later,” Lei Kui concluded, while Ma Shou was in the process of examining the singed and tattered outer layers of his clothing. “I am in no hurry, Guo Sen.”

The companion to the necromancer made no vocal response. The sound of footsteps carried both individuals off. As well, the peculiar, yet oddly human gait of the vulture’s shadow traveled across the cloth partition. It was an odd creature to be kept, and Ma Shou still wondered if he would wind up dismembered by its beak yet.

Through the Gate of Heavenly Protection

T
he Imperial City
of Sheng Fan—also called Jianfeng, they were told—seemed as if it were the biggest city in all the world. Tristus had always believed that Rhinan, the capital of Andaria was large, but this was astounding. It was a city within a city, within a city. The palace itself and the palace grounds—the places, according to Xu Liang, where everything politically important went on—was heavily fortified, guarded by men and stone as well as a moat, while the city around it was contained by a series of walls and gates of its own. Beyond the outermost walls was a smaller community of what were almost squatters, traveling merchants and peasants living in simple shacks, working to cultivate the land outside of the Imperial City. Some of the residents were fisherman, riding daily to a river not far away with the hopes of filling their carts with fresh fish to sell by the basket to merchants within the city. Though, the gate they were approaching—Tristus had been told—was not the gate through which food and wares were delivered. There was a gate especially designated for that, just as the one they would enter through had its own assignment. Apparently, it was to receive returning troops and envoys. Tristus had maneuvered to the front of their caravan strictly for the sake of hearing what Xu Liang would tell them of his home as they entered it. When it seemed to him that the mystic’s attention was divided between their curiosity and the anticipation of his return after such a prolonged absence, he decided to leave the mystic to his thoughts and once again dropped back.

There were so many people...and all of them had black hair and dark eyes, except for the elderly with gray or white hair. Of course, the Phoenix Elves had all been flame-haired with golden eyes, but their population wasn’t nearly so large and one tended to expect such things among the elvish people—they were so reclusive and otherworldly. To find a group of humans, who all looked so alike and yet so vastly different was utterly amazing to Tristus. As with many societies, one could distinguish the poor from the well-to-do by their dress. Those of a more affluent role appeared to wear heavily decorated silk. It seemed that the majority were adorned in coarser, though still uniquely cut fabrics. Tristus could only imagine what they thought of his white-gold plate armor, or of Shirisae’s black. Perhaps it was best that the Phoenix Warrior removed her helm before they arrived at the Imperial City. Or perhaps not. Her redder than red hair and yellow-pale complexion was drawing a great deal of attention.

Of course, Tristus wasn’t getting by without any curious stares directed at him. He felt like he was in a festival performance—as a dancing animal, or some other spectacle. It didn’t help the way Xu Liang now rode well ahead of them, leaving just two of his guards to take up the rear, possibly to keep them on course or to keep back anyone who might be too curious about the strangers. He had a feeling Alere might view this differently. Rather than a freak, the mountain elf might have felt like a prisoner, being marched into his enemy’s city. These people didn’t appear hateful, though. They simply looked inquisitive.

Tristus looked over his shoulder at Alere after the thought, and with some hope that his friend was taking the transfer from the wilderness better than he had imagined. The quiet frown on Alere’s face confirmed that he was not. Tristus pulled back lightly on Sylvashen’s reins, waiting for the elf to reach him before resuming a normal pace. “I understand what you’re thinking, my friend, but try to consider it from these people’s perspective.”

Firstly, Alere cast Tristus a look that appeared to challenge the claim of understanding his thoughts. Secondly, he said, “You realize they outnumber us by at least one thousand to one, in the outer settlements alone.”

“You’re very military-minded,” Tristus sighed.

“And you’re not,” Alere noted. “Yet you’re a soldier.”

“My father was a knight,” Tristus replied, looking ahead of them while he reiterated what was a common subject whenever he had acquired an abundance of personal focus. “Isn’t that every son’s wish, to be like his father?”

“Not yours, I gather by the inflection in your voice.”

“Oh, it was,” Tristus said emphatically. He didn’t want any of them to mistake his commitment to order. “It just didn’t turn out as I had hoped. I’m not like you, Alere.”

“No, you’re not,” the elf agreed. “I’d have killed ‘that fat cleric’.”

Tristus’ eyebrows lifted when the elf referenced conversation that was now weeks past—a conversation he’d had with Xu Liang over the manifestation of his berserker side. “You heard that? When I tried to explain about my past to Xu Liang, you were listening?” When Alere said nothing, Tristus smiled, simply because there seemed to be nothing else for it. “I suspected you weren’t unconscious then.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Taya said suddenly, reminding Tristus of her presence. “You might have let someone know you weren’t on the verge of death, you.... elf!”

“It would not have mattered,” Alere said to her. “I was beyond your aid.”

“You’re beyond all aid, my friend,” Taya muttered.

Tristus reached a hand back to silence her. “Taya.”

She nudged his elbow in return.

“There will be trouble at the next gate,” Alere informed while they passed beneath one of several complicated archways that had been leading them deeper into the city’s interior. The architecture of each gate was sensational.

Tristus looked ahead, through the banners and canted rooftops, at the gate Alere had referred to. This one was a massive structure of stone and painted wood looming over the fringes of the innermost city. It had been erected in three distinct sections, all connected by the grand architecture that crowned it. Behind it lay a massive bridge of stone and another gate beyond the crossing—mate to the first. The city was a thorough fortification by the look of it.

As to his friend’s prediction…

“How can you know that?” he asked Alere, because it didn’t seem possible to discern trouble from unfamiliar at this point. There were guards, yes—abundantly so—but what royal seat wouldn’t have that?

“The mystic’s authority is not absolute,” Alere replied cryptically.

“Now I’m scared,” Taya said nervously. “I can force myself to not think about the crowd, but Alere’s never been wrong about his eerie feelings and now I’m getting one of my own. I don’t like this.”

Tristus sighed and cast Alere an admonishing look before reaching back to comfort the dwarf maiden. “It’ll be all right, Taya. I promise you. Xu Liang said that he would protect us. And remember he said that his people weren’t unkind or malicious. Everything will be all right.”

“Perhaps if we bow,” Alere suggested dryly, displaying a rare moment of humor at just the wrong moment.

“You’re not helping,” Tristus told him, finding Taya’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “You’re with me, Taya. I won’t let anything happen to you. You have my word.”

The Gate of
Heavenly Protection was drawing open as Xu Liang and the others approached. He did not appreciate the bowmen who were staged upon the parapets, taking aim at the outsiders among his group. There was no reason to show such apprehension. Even if they were a threat, there were only five of them, and the guards must have known that Xu Liang, of all people, would not have been so careless as to lead a band of ‘dangerous barbarians’—as they would have it—into the Imperial City without having taken some measure in advance. It was an embarrassment as well, that they should look so concerned over a handful of outsiders. Apparently Jiao Ren did not have as much control over his men as he believed, else he was responsible for this display himself and ought to be ashamed.

I have been gone too long
, Xu Liang realized. Once through the gates, he remained atop Blue Crane, waiting while Jiao Ren approached on foot.

“Lord Xu Liang,” the young general greeted respectfully. “We have been waiting. It’s good to see you safely returned.”

“Thank you,” Xu Liang replied. “Though, clearly, I have not returned alone. I request that the others in my company be treated with courtesy and respect. They are to be guests here, not prisoners.”

Jiao Ren peered around Blue Crane at the assortment of outsiders at the gate. “They are armed, my lord. I ask that you allow me to confiscate their weapons.”

“I will see to the proper handling of their weapons,” Xu Liang informed, turning when he heard too much scuffling behind him after the gates had been drawn closed. “They are not to be harmed!” he said to the guards who were closing in on his company with spears ready. When the men stopped their advance and it seemed clear that none of his companions planned to retaliate—particularly Alere—Xu Liang returned his attention to Jiao Ren. “What rumors have you heard? Why are your men so agitated?”

“We have heard many things, including that an officer of the Imperial Court traveled the countryside in the company of devils.”

Xu Liang was disgusted and, in his weariness, unable to hide the fact. “These men are not leaderless rabble. You will take control of your troops.”

“I will see to it,” Jiao Ren promised, bowing his head. “Please forgive me. In my concern over your long absence, I must have contributed to their unease.”

Xu Liang felt remiss for having snapped at the younger man and lightened his tone. “Within hours, gossip of what has been seen will spread throughout the city to add to what has already been heard. It might be necessary for someone to address the people and ease their concerns.”

“I agree,” Jiao Ren replied cooperatively, but still with some unease as his gaze strayed once again to the others. “I trust you will prepare what needs to be said.”

Before Xu Liang could answer, someone else said, “I trust you will speak those words to those of us within the court first. This is most distressing, Lord Xu Liang; that you would leave us for so long, hide our empress from us, and now return with these menacing looking outsiders.”

Xu Liang felt a sudden icy pain lance through his heart when he looked at Han Quan. The elder approached with the same courtly respect he had always shown his colleague, but memories of a dreadful nightmare surfaced anew with his presence. In the terror of those remembered dreams, friend seemed suddenly enemy. Not only Han Quan, but Jiao Ren now as well. It was as if the other mystic served as the catalyst to reawakening the terrible visions Xu Liang had been avoiding since leaving Vilciel. He felt a relapse of the burning and the weakness brought on by his near death and by the Flame that had brought him back. His mind seemed to spin, and as he attempted to lower himself out of Blue Crane’s saddle, he nearly fell.

Jiao Ren caught him and steadied him. “Lord Xu Liang, are you ill?”

Han Quan came forward, taking hold of Xu Liang’s arm with one thin hand, offering his support as well. He said to Jiao Ren, “The Imperial Tactician is unwell. The strain of his travels has been too much. We must get him inside, out of this sun.”

Jiao Ren agreed and started guiding Xu Liang gently away from Blue Crane. Han Quan’s hand—skeletal, in the wake of memories—shifted to Xu Liang’s back, as if in reassurance. Xu Liang envisioned the man’s cold, thin fingers as sleeve darts springing into his flesh. The needling sensation in his imagination forced a muscle spasm and an instant of panic that made him wheel around and glare at Han Quan. Accusations of betrayal flew up from his pounding heart and hovered on his lips, stayed in the last instant by reason.

Xu Liang lifted one hand to his swimming head and calmly refused Jiao Ren’s assistance. “I thank you for your concern and I apologize for worrying you. I am fine.” He beckoned Gai Ping and the old guard came at once. “Take our guests and their weapons to my residence. Separately,” he added, noticing the distress and disapproval that was apparent in both Han Quan’s and Jiao Ren’s expressions. “Take your fellows with you. Our guests are to be watched constantly. I leave you in charge.”