Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning

  Chapter 25

  Captain Yang

  As soon as the rain starts driving down, I know it’s going to be a trying day.

  Which is strange – usually rain lifts me up.

  Not today.

  Today, I feel unsettled.

  Which is a problem, because Princess Mara is about to arrive.

  I pace back and forth in front of Garl’s office, waiting for him.

  The preparations for today have to be perfect. The Queen’s own daughter will be practicing, and I can’t afford to have anything go wrong.

  I try to tell myself everything will be fine, but my mantra is a hollow one.

  There are so many variables at play. Members of the Royal Family are hardly ever taken out of the palace, and usually only when it is strictly necessary. Their safety is the most important factor in the entire Kingdom.

  Now I am facing the harrowing possibility that for the foreseeable future Princess Mara will travel to and train at the Royal Barracks.

  All because Castor convinced her to.

  As soon as I think about that man, I shake my head.

  I know he’s up to something. Maybe he wants to see his apprentice, Yin, or maybe it’s something else.

  But his loyalty is not what everyone else assumes it to be.

  It is a show.

  As Garl’s door opens and the man heads out with a nod, I return it and seriously wonder whether I should share my reservations about Castor.

  But I already have, and no matter what I say, nor how emphatically I say it, Garl will not believe Castor is a threat.

  To Garl and every other soldier in the Kingdom, Castor is a hero.

  A living legend.

  “Yang, I trust all the necessary preparations have been made,” Garl asks as he straightens his helmet underneath his arm.

  I nod low, trying not to pump my left hand as I do. “Everything is ready, sir. Though I must point out that it is currently raining.”

  “We can use as many Royal Army sorcerers as it will take to keep dry,” Garl says dismissively.

  Briefly, I’d wondered whether he would say it didn’t matter – that the Princess could just train in the rain, because she’s the Savior, and will face much worse.

  I’m wrong. Garl will use his best men to ensure not a droplet of water strikes her.

  I smile. Or I try to. My nerves are a hard, twisting knot in my gut.

  A knot I try to untie as we walk through the wide corridors and out into the square.

  “Did you manage to secure a female sorcerer?” I ask Garl as we walk, “I heard last night that Castor requested one.”

  “Yes, Mae will suffice,” Garl says as he marches forward.

  I open my mouth to point out Mae would be busy training Yin, but something holds me back.

  That something is Yin’s reaction from last night. How she’d withdrawn at the mere mention of Garl’s name.

  Not for the first time, I wonder exactly what he said to her.

  I hold my tongue.

  We reach the square. Before we do, I feel the rain.

  I feel it as if I’m standing right underneath it, opening my arms to its power.

  I touch, smell, and taste it.

  Eventually, we walk out, and I see it.

  The clouds are a rolling, gray mess above. They send down a ferocious downpour that covers the square in drenching sheets of rain. The square itself is filled with puddles, water tracking around it, rushing into the gutters that will lead it outside onto the street, and eventually down to the river.

  The smell that meets me as I breathe in deeply is truly invigorating.

  It doesn’t last.

  Drawing my head down from staring at the clouds, I see Mae march up to us. When she reaches the General, she dips down low in a graceful bow.

  “General, I am honored,” she says.

  “I trust you have been informed how important this task will be,” Garl asks as his chest puffs out pompously.

  No, not pompously, loyally. I have no idea where that thought came from, and I chastise myself for even daring to think it.

  “I have,” Mae looks a little surprised as she swallows heavily, but soon enough she straightens her back regally, “and I will not disappoint you.”

  “I trust you won’t,” Garl says. He gestures forward, and we all begin to walk.

  I watch Mae’s shoulders tense at Garl’s words. Perhaps she found his statement threatening, but I know he’s underlining how important this task is.

  So unbelievably important.

  As we walk, and tension winds itself harder and faster around my gut, I can’t help but stare at the rain. With my head twisted to the side, I watch those droplets fall in a storm of motion.

  I see something moving amongst them. No, at first I feel it.

  As we get closer, I realize it’s a person.

  When Mae takes a sharp breath, I realize who that person is.

  Yin.

  Of course. It couldn’t possibly be anyone else.

  She seems completely oblivious to the fact she’s drawn an audience. And quite an audience she has drawn.

  Not only are her guards watching her, but several other soldiers have come out from nearby rooms as well.

  Now Garl draws to a halt under the awning, inclining his head down as he stares at her dancing in the rain.

  No. She isn’t dancing. There’s no wild abandon about her moves. Nor is there any great elegance or grace.

  What there is, is deliberate, directed force.

  It’s the most arresting sight I’ve ever seen.

  It takes me too long to realize she has her fan in her hand.

  “I thought I was told she is falling behind in training with the fan?” Garl notes as he does not turn his head from her.

  His expression is mostly hidden from me.

  Mostly.

  I can see just a slice of his left eye and the corner of his lips. The effect they have is a chilling one.

  No, I chide myself immediately. It’s the angle.

  “I… she was,” Mae stutters quickly. “She has just… benefited from my training. I set her work, gave her books to read.”

  Garl nods. He doesn’t say anything more. He continues to stare.

  The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Then, unable to stop myself, my gaze is drawn back to her.

  I can’t look away.

  I can tell she knows we’re looking at her – I’m sure she’s aware of the crowd she’s drawn. She doesn’t care, though.

  My life is dictated by tradition. Hers, it seems, by choice.

  As I think that, I shake my head.

  I draw myself back to earth, my awareness pulling away from her dancing, rain-covered form.

  That’s when I see her fan glowing red-hot with magic.

  Ordinarily, fans are made to store magic as long as they can. They concentrate it, enabling one to produce devastating blows.

  However, like all magical weaponry, they can’t hold that magic forever.

  They have a limit. Yin’s fan is rapidly reaching its.

  I jump forward, out into the rain.

  I don’t think, I act, driven on, not by my mind, but by something else.

  She turns, halfway through a powerful, sweeping turn, and sees me. Her hair is plastered over her face, water soaking every centimeter of her.

  Where her gaze was once focused, mesmerized even, now her eyes open in surprise, water cascading over her lips as she jerks them apart.

  I plunge forward.

  She takes it as an attack, darting back.

  “Stay still,” I command, but my voice is drowned out by the pounding force of the rain. As it slams against the cobbles of the square, it creates a din that fills the air.

  Usually, I can force my voice through any storm – drawing on the power of magic within.

  Today, I can’t.

  I jump toward her again, but she darts back, her eyes now narrowing in a snap.

  I’ve fough
t her once before, and that was during the driving rain too.

  But she wasn’t prepared for me then, and she is now.

  She shifts back, watching me warily.

  “I’m not attacking you,” I snap, “you need to stay still and let me—”

  She darts away.

  As she does, she lets the fan swing close to her chest. With the amount of energy charged within in, one wrong move and she could slice through her own torso.

  I put a hand out, my fingers spreading wide in desperation, the rain striking them and thumping hard against my armor and helmet. “Please, stay still.”

  Though my plea is once more drained out by the rain, I watch her stop.

  Maybe she picks up on the desperate look in my eyes, but she no longer moves back. In fact, she stands there, confused.

  Then she lets the fan drop toward her side as she takes an unsure step toward me.

  I watch a lick of brilliant white magical flame start to leap from the fan toward her body.

  I move faster than I ever have before. I flow forward like water let out from a dam.

  She doesn’t jerk back as I leap beside her, grab the arm holding the fan, and direct it toward the sky.

  Though she twitches back at my sudden move, I won’t let her break my grip, and she twists into my chest.

  Then the magic escapes.

  In one brilliant shot of lightning, it leaps into the air. It has so much power that it actually shoots through the clouds, pushing them back in a circle.

  With a resounding boom like thunder, the last of it dissipates.

  I let her hand drop.

  She doesn’t move away. She leans there, right against me, shaking. “What?” she breathes sharply.

  I push back, releasing my hand from her wrist and letting her arm drop.

  I watch her stare at the fan, her face contorted in fear and shock. “What just happened?” she asks again, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  I try to answer, but can’t find my words. They’re lodged far below my churning emotions.

  Finally, someone speaks, but it’s neither myself nor Yin.

  Instead, Mae comes darting into the yard, as the rain starts to abate. “You fool,” she shrieks.

  Yin doesn’t even look up. An angry Mae is bearing down on her, and all she does is stare from the slowly smoking remains of her fan then up at me.

  I try to hold her gaze, but can’t. I jerk to the side, clear my throat, and stare into the sky instead.

  Mae reaches Yin, her ferocity making her cheeks a wild red like powdered ruby. “You idiot,” she snarls through clenched teeth, “you could have killed someone. How dare you be so foolish. You ignored my warning about the fan,” she begins.

  “You never warned me,” Yin says in a quiet, far-off tone as she stares up at the point where her magic parted the very clouds.

  “Do not speak back to me. I told you during our first lesson that there is a limit to how much magic you can push into a fan.”

  “You told me to watch and copy; you didn’t tell me anything about the fan,” Yin answers, still distracted by the clouds above.

  They are… thinning. Whereas once they’d been thick and dark, now they are dispersing with a quick wind.

  “How dare you,” Mae snarls. “You endangered Captain Yang and yourself.”

  “I was in no danger,” Yin answers quietly, still looking at the clouds, her lips parted and her gaze lost in the sight above.

  Mae gasps. She moves forward to slap Yin.

  I jerk in front of her grabbing her hand.

  I tell myself it’s not because I’m trying to protect Yin. Just the opposite, in fact – I’m protecting Mae.

  Mae stares at me but doesn’t try to yank her hand free. She raises her head haughtily and waits for me to drop it.

  I do, and I stand back quickly. Not to the side – I take a step back toward Yin, ensuring I’m still blocking her from Mae.

  I should say something, but I can’t. Instead, I concentrate on the light drizzle touching my neck, and Yin’s gaze, because I know she’s staring at me.

  Just as Mae looks as though she wants to push around me to get to Yin, Garl descends down the stairs and into the square.

  I stare at him but try as I might, I can’t fathom his gaze. It has an intense, concentrated quality. What it means, I can’t guess.

  It leaves me feeling cold though as he moves easily around me to get to Yin.

  I stiffen, my body wanting to act on its own, wanting to take a step back so I stand before her, blocking her off once more.

  It’s mad. It makes no sense. Yet I can’t deny what I want to do.

  Still, I control myself.

  Twisting to face her, I watch Yin warily stare at Garl.

  At some point, she dropped her fan, and Garl now descends slowly on one knee to pick it up. Thoughtfully he turns it around in his hand, inspecting the damage with a few swipes of his thumb.

  Yin flinches.

  Garl keeps inspecting the fan, then he hands it to her.

  She takes it from him with a trembling hand.

  I wait for him to speak – and it’s clear everyone else does too. But he doesn’t. He turns and walks through the puddle-covered square, his heavy boots splashing through the water as he marches back up under cover without a word.

  Mae looks from me toward the General. She snarls a quick, “I’ll deal with you later,” before running off after Garl.

  I should follow them.

  Princess Mara is waiting.

  The Savior.

  Yet I can’t walk away.

  Yin stands there, her hand still trembling from when Garl handed her the fan. For the very first time since meeting her, she looks small.

  “I didn’t… know,” she manages.

  At first, I’m surprised she’s actually trying to explain herself to me. I would have thought she would merely cross her arms, turn her back, and tell me we’re done here.

  “I didn’t know,” she says again in a quiet voice, looking up at the sky.

  Though it would be easy enough to believe Mae – considering how hot-headed and rebellious Yin is, I can’t.

  While Yin is hot-headed and rebellious, I doubt she’d do something so dangerous knowingly. Castorious Barr would have taught her how to look after herself.

  “It’s not your fault,” I find myself saying.

  I mean it.

  I don’t try to make her believe I’m being genuine – I am genuine.

  She looks up at me. That usual hard edge to her stare is gone, and she looks vulnerable.

  “You should get out of the cold,” I suggest in a whisper.

  “And go where? Back to my room? Won’t the General…” she shudders. “Won’t he punish me?”

  I open my mouth.

  I don’t know what to say.

  Garl reacted… strangely. If he’d been angry at her apparent lack of care, he’d hidden it well. No, if anything, he’d been impressed.

  His gaze had been calculating, not menacing.

  Involuntarily, I shiver.

  Yin notices. “I thought you Royal Army sorcerers couldn’t get cold?”

  She could be taunting me, but the quality of her voice is too worn out.

  “We don’t, and I’m not,” I answer. “That was just close,” I add before I realize it.

  At first, she looks unconvinced by my words, but as I admit my true feelings, she looks up.

  “I… should go,” I manage. “Just head back to your room. I’m sure your training will be canceled today, considering what’s about to happen.”

  Though she still looks fragile, her brow crumples in confused interest. “What’s happening? Mae said some princess is coming. Is she inspecting the barracks or something?”

  I feel instinctively irritated as she says “some princess,” but I don’t draw her up on it. Neither do I answer her question.

  She has no need to know why Princess Mara is coming here.

  She looks at me expe
ctantly, then sighs. “Fine, I get it; I’m not worthy enough to know. Sorry I almost killed you,” she mutters as she moves passed me, her waterlogged clothes sticking around her.

  “You almost killed yourself,” I correct automatically.

  She glances at me from over her shoulder. “I would have been fine.”

  I can’t help but laugh. It’s half frustrated and half disbelieving. “The fan would have discharged all your magic back into you.”

  She presses her lips together and shrugs. “I would have been fine.”

  Frustration starts to rise in my belly. “You would have killed yourself. You need to be more careful.”

  “Why? So General Garl can figure out what he wants to do with me? I saw how he looked at me when he handed me that fan.”

  My mouth is open, but the words won’t come out.

  I know what I should say, but I can’t. So I close my lips in frustration and stare at her.

  Again it’s like I’m staring into the fire, waiting for it to engulf me.

  But the fire quickly dies. Yin turns around, sighs, her shoulders dropping forward sharply, and then she begins to walk off.

  That’s when I notice her bandage has slipped off her hand. I lean down to pick it up, staring over at her left hand as I do.

  It seems unharmed.

  I’d been informed that she’d cut herself badly in her fight with the illusionists. According to one of Garl’s guards, her hand had been soaked in blood.

  Now, in the brief glimpse I get of it, it appears unharmed.

  “Hold on,” I say as I rush up to her.

  She turns with a terse look in her eyes. Raising an eyebrow, she asks, “what?”

  Silently I hand her the bandage.

  She barely glances at what I’m handing her. She reaches out with her left hand.

  I lock the bandage in her hand, then quickly reverse my grip, grasping her wrist gently but firmly as I raise it up.

  She jerks back, and her move is strong. I get to see as much of her palm as I need, though.

  There’s no cut. It’s completely fine.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her breath short.

  “Where’s your cut?”

  “It healed,” she says in a choked voice.

  I nod. I hand her the bandage.

  She hesitates, then snatches it off me.

  “I’m leaving now,” she whispers as she grips the bandage firmly in her left hand and hurries off.

  She doesn’t once look back. I, however, don’t take my eyes off her until she disappears into the building.

  .…

  Either Garl was wrong – and her hand was never covered in blood, or… what?

  Am I to believe such a serious injury could just heal so quickly?

  Feeling confused, I shake my head.

  I jerk back and realize I have somewhere to be.

  Yin has distracted me from a far more important task. I must get to the Princess.

  I run forward, my wet boots slapping against the equally wet stone.

  It is time to begin my day. Or, rather, my destiny.

  From now on, I will watch over and organize Princess Mara’s training. I will help make her into the Savior.

  With that thought pounding in my mind, it should be easy to keep all others at bay.

  .…

  I can’t, though. As I race through the square, I turn to face the buildings, scanning over them until my eyes lock on the one where Yin’s room is.

  The way she moved in the rain was… more than incredible. Beyond words, really.

  She’s proving to be far more powerful than I’d first thought. And just maybe, more powerful than Garl thought too.

  I want to tell myself I didn’t see that calculating look in his eyes, that I didn’t feel how cold and dark his emotions were when he faced her.

  But that would be a lie.

  Instead, I race forward, trying to push all of that away.

  It’s like pushing into a wall of water, though – my hands slip through and flounder.