Chapter 27
Captain Yang
I hold onto the book as I jog back through the corridors, heading to the Princess.
I also hold onto the memory of how Yin reacted.
She isn’t the kind to get flustered. Powerfully angry and determined, yes. But not nervous.
She’d looked as if I’d caught her. While technically she should probably have been studying combat, I doubt she was skittish just because I’d found her looking at something else.
No, the way she looked at me had been so… vulnerable.
The second act of vulnerability she’s shown today.
I try to wipe all of that from my mind as I head quickly back to the Princess. Her training has already been delayed by the rain. Now they are waiting for me to bring this book. I can’t dither thinking about Yin’s curious reaction.
Her hand.
It isn’t injured at all. Though I want to question her about it, I know she won’t answer. She’ll snap at me that “we are done,” and turn her back.
I have never met a woman like her. Bolder than most soldiers under my command, she has a streak of will so determined, it feels as if parts of her are made of solid diamond.
Realizing I’m still thinking about her, I roll my eyes.
Finally, I reach the correct room. It’s spacious with pictures of the Royal Family – including Mara herself – lining the walls. There are also beautiful antique chairs and couches, and a large, ornate cherry wood table.
It’s a room specifically intended for receiving dignitaries.
Of which the Princess is unquestionably one. However, I can’t help think that as she’s seated on a deep purple cushion sipping tea, she isn’t training.
She should be out in the puddle-soaked square learning how to fight.
As I catch myself thinking that, I’m appalled. She’s the Princess, I tell myself.
But she’s also the Savior.
The Savior must save. Drinking tea on a purple cushion isn’t going to aid that holy quest.
It’s not my place to interrupt, though.
As I enter the room, Mara smiles at me. It’s such a warm and inviting move, I feel like blushing. Qu, Garl, and Matok – the head of the palace guards – are all in the room, and all can clearly see the way she’s gazing at me.
Oh, and there’s one other person. Castorious Barr. He, unlike the generals and the Princess, is not seated.
He is standing with his back to the far wall, his face angled out of the window as he stares watchfully into the square.
Is he looking for her? Yin?
As I clear my throat and present the book to the Princess, Castor turns around.
I feel his gaze like fire burning through water.
Clearing my throat, I nod at the Princess. “It was a little harder to find that I thought it would be,” I say truthfully, though omit the reason why, “but here it is.”
Mara smiles again, then carefully opens the cover with her delicate hand, her bracelets tinkling lightly against it.
With a watchful, intelligent gaze, she scans through the book. “It’s in the Old Dialect,” she suddenly says, disappointment filling her tone. “Do we have a translation?”
“It is?” I ask, confused.
Either Yin was lying, and wasn’t reading the book, or… she can read the Old Dialect.
Few scholars can, so why would a simple girl from the mountains have been taught to?
I find myself looking back at Castor.
He stares my way, his arms crossed, one leg locked over the other as he leans against the wall.
They’ve given him armor fitting his old rank – major. It’s finer than most, though, and even bears the purple insignia of the palace. It is a testament to how easily they have accepted him back.
The great, the powerful, the loyal Castorious Barr.
I turn from him slowly, clearing my throat as I do. “Princess, we will hand it over to the record keepers and have it translated at once,” I suggest.
“I’m sure they have their own translation,” Castor interrupts. “Anyhow, I did not request this book so that it can be read. I am interested in the pictures. If you turn to the middle, you will see several illustrations depicting a series of movements. It is a powerful combat form, and I want you to memorize it.”
The Princess nods her head firmly. “Of course. Will that be my lesson for today?”
“No. We will go out into the square to train,” Castor says.
Garl clears his throat, as does Matok.
“Castor, we must act with some discretion. I do not believe it wise to have the Princess train before my men,” Garl says carefully, “we should endeavor to keep her training secret.”
“No, we should not. We should make it as public as we can. The people need to know what is before them. They must know what their Princess is to go through so that they can help her in any way they can.”
Garl clears his throat. “I disagree. We must keep this secret. There is another training square behind my office. There are no windows that look into it, apart from my own. We will be safe there. With discretion, we will be able to keep this secret.”
“You will not. It will come out. Sooner rather than later. You do not need to hide this, nor be ashamed of it. Tell the people what they deserve to know,” Castor says.
Garl clears his throat again. I can see his ire rising, but he does not dare glance toward Castor.
.…
Garl is scared of no one.
So is that real deference holding him back, or something else?
As I look, I swear I see Garl’s eyes narrow in calculation.
“Castor,” the Princess turns in her chair, “I understand what you’re saying. But for now, let us train in secret. The people will know when they are ready to be told. I don’t want to delay my training any longer to discuss when that will be. We will let them know when the time is right.”
“Or wrong, Princess. For it is my experience that keeping secrets as important as this does not lead to protecting people – it leads to disadvantaging them. Whether we like it or not, soon the age will begin to end. Your record keepers tell us we have anywhere from weeks to a single year. But as that age ends, chaos will break free. The hands of the Night will start to reach up from the cracks in the ground. Monsters will begin to roam the land. Now, you may choose to believe you are doing people a favor by telling them only when you’re ready, but recognize that benefits you, not them.”
I watch Garl’s expression turn from calculated but controlled, to pink with rage. It’s a sentiment shared by the other men in the room. To them, challenging let alone insulting the Princess is tantamount to treason.
Yet not one of them rises to pull him into line. They watch to see what the Princess will decide.
She looks over at Castor, and her usual gentle but regal countenance cracks a little. Looking uncomfortably between Castor and the generals, then up to me, she is clearly lost.
People don’t usually challenge the Royal Family, and she clearly has no experience with what she should do should anyone try.
“I…” she trails off.
“You need to realize you’re no longer a Princess. Your attachment to the Royal Family is now irrelevant. From now on, you are only the Savior. All other duties must be ignored, for all other duties will detract from your destiny,” as Castor speaks, his voice becomes… intensely powerful.
I know the man doesn’t technically practice magic, but there’s still something out of the ordinary about him. Otherworldly almost.
In fact, for some time I’m too impressed by his powerful words that I fail to realize what he’s said.
.…
I step forward. It’s more of a knee-jerk, actually, one that sees me lurch a little into the room as surprise loosens my cheeks.
I go to say something – to defend the Princess. Castor gets there first. Looking right at me, he says, “I’m saying what you know, but won’t dare utter.” He doesn’t take
his eyes off me. “You can’t sacrifice yourself to save the age while drinking tea and sitting on a royal cushion. Now, until you recognize that, there’s nothing I can teach you,” as he speaks, he never looks away – he stares only at me.
Right at me. His eyes boring into mine, his concentration like a jet of flame.
I hear the Princess breathe sharply, and Garl gets to his feet, his indignation making his cheeks so hot, they could melt snow.
Without another word, Castor walks away. With his shoulders thrust back and his head held high, he marches for the door and walks right out.
.…
No one tries to stop him.
With another gasp, the Princess gets unsteadily to her feet, placing a hand flat on her chest. “What did I do? Did I insult him? Yang?” she turns and fixes her flickering gaze on me.
I barely look at her. Instead, I watch the door close and listen to Castor’s footsteps as he marches off.
.…
No one stops him. Not the generals and not the soldiers outside. Why would they? He’s the great Castorious Barr – the greatest warrior the Kingdom has. A veritable hero. And a necessary ingredient in the Princess’ training.
“This is outrageous,” Garl says. “We can’t do as he says. We must keep this training secret. For the Princess’ safety,” he nods at Mara, “it would be inconceivable to make this public. It could put the Royal Family in danger.”
I hear Garl’s words.
They should make perfect sense. I should be just as incensed by Castor’s suggestion. Yet a part of me can’t help but think he’s right. A small part. For I am still fiercely loyal to the Royal Family. However, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a grain of truth to the man’s message.
The Savior can’t perform her job atop a comfortable purple cushion.
But she’s simply resting, I tell myself immediately. Her training has not yet begun in full. When it does, she will be diligent enough to succeed.
As for making this public – telling the Kingdom Princess Mara is the legendary Savior – is completely foolish. The public would not know how to deal with such monumental news. To tell them the world as they know it will soon end, and they will be ushered into a new age only if Mara defeats the Night… there would be pandemonium. Pure, violent panic. And under those circumstances, it would become even harder to train Mara.
No, Castor is wrong. I know that…. So why am I not saying that aloud? Why am I not using my own force, passion, and reason, to discount his?
Something is holding me back. Something strange.
For a man who reportedly has no magic, Castorious Barr is proving to have abilities I can’t explain.
“This is outrageous,” Garl continues.
The Princess immediately puts up her hand. “We need him, Garl. He knows so much. I have barely trained with him, and yet I can sense his power. His knowledge of the arts of magic is phenomenal. I can think of no other warrior in the entire Kingdom more suited to teach me. We must keep his confidence. And… perhaps he is right,” Mara concedes as she gazes down at her hands, her eyes darting over her golden bracelets. She begins to take them off slowly. “He already warned me this would take sacrifices. I can’t be a princess and live in luxury, yet expect to become a warrior. If I am to become the Savior, then I must learn to sacrifice.”
She continues to take her bracelets off, placing them carefully on top of the cushion beside her.
“No, Princess,” Matock says in a rumbling tone.
“Please, Matok, do not make this harder for me. This is a confusing situation, and we all must endeavor to determine how this is to work.” Once she removes the final bangle, she closes her eyes for a brief moment, before opening them and turning toward me. “Yang, please find Castor and tell him I am ready to cooperate. I… will discuss with my mother whether we should make this…” she uncomfortably looks at her hands, “public. But for now, assure him I am ready to relinquish the trappings of my station. Anything for his return and cooperation.”
I want to tell her she shouldn’t have to do that. I want to point out that regardless of what she is to become, she will always be the Princess.
Yet I don’t. The words are there, but I can’t say them.
It’s as if the effect of Castor’s powerful display still lingers in the room. As if, somehow, he’s still present.
Even Garl – usually an indomitable force – looks more reserved, wary even.
.…
I know Castor has no magic – or at least no recognized kind. Could it be possible he possesses some other strange ability, though? Or am I making it up to explain my own weaknesses and inability to match him?
“Captain Yang?” the Princess prompts. While she is not affected in the same way I am, she is still acting strangely. I can see how reserved her expression is, and all it takes is a quick glance at her hands to see they are curled and white with nerves.
“Yes, of course, your highness,” I manage, breaking myself out of my reverie with a quick nod.
I turn, so sharply my boots squeak across the floor.
I rush for the door. When I open it and exit the room, I can’t help but take a stuttering breath.
It’s almost as if I’ve come up for air after being half-drowned.
.…
I push myself forward, my movements a little jerky. Yet the more I move away from that room, the less of an effect Castor’s display has on me.
I feel my usual control returning.
I walk faster.
As soon as I run into a soldier, I snap at him if he’s seen Castorious Barr.
The surprised man nods his head and points down the hall.
In the direction of the library.
.…
Could he know Yin is in there? Was this all a ploy to go see her? He hasn’t seen his apprentice for several days now, and as far as I’m aware, nor has he asked after her.
I speed up, running now, my arms pumping beside me and my armor rattling over my chest.
There’s still a strong smell of rain in the air, and the square is filled with puddles.
I let its presence calm and bolster me.
Be like the water, I tell myself, move around all that stands in your path. Do not destroy it in one obvious blow – undermine it slowly but surely.
I take comfort from my thoughts, but as soon as I dare think of applying that philosophy to Castorious Barr, I actually cringe.
Though I have fought many incredible enemies in my time, I can’t help but feel he is completely different. Flowing around him may not work.
Finding out what he’s really up to, however, just might.
Running as fast as I can, and ignoring the strange glances I get, I reach the library. Without pause, I knock my shoulder into the doors and push through them, grunting as I do.
As one, every man in the library looks up, surprise then alarm playing over their faces.
“What’s the matter?” one snaps, standing from his chair.
Though I want to shout out, I manage to control the volume of my voice as I ask, “did Castorious Barr come in here?”
The soldier looks confused, then shakes his head. “Not that I remember.”
I push past the man, my head sweeping left to right as I try to confirm that for myself. “Where’s Yin?” I ask instead.
One of her guards, who was previously leaning against the wall relaxing, stands up and points toward the back of the library.
“What did she do?” he asks with undisguised delight. “The General finally going to show her who’s boss?”
I ignore the man. I can’t stop my stomach from tightening at his crude words.
Still, I push into the library, marching, then jogging, then almost running until I make it all the way toward the back. Darting in and out of the bookshelves, I come across her.
I stop.
She has her eyes closed, her hands held out before her as she clearly practices some move.
Her expression is… peacef
ul. In fact, it’s by far the most peaceful I’ve seen her. Even when she rested against Castor’s shoulder after I cast the sleeping spell on her, she didn’t look so… restful.
At first I hesitate, not wanting to interrupt. Then I remind myself why I’m here.
I clear my throat.
Her eyes snap open. They grow wide with obvious alarm. Taking a step back, she places a hand on her chest defensively. “Why are you watching me?” she snaps.
Though I’m on an important mission from the Princess, that doesn’t stop me from feeling… awkward. “I…” I clear my throat quickly, “have you seen…” I trail off. This time on purpose.
If Castor isn’t in the library, isn’t it safe to assume he didn’t come here? Is there any reason, then, to alert Yin of his presence?
She shifts her head forward, her lips compressing in anger. “What? What do you want to know? Are you after some book? Or are you just here to check up on me? In which case you don’t need a stupid story. And,” she spreads her arms wide as she turns slowly on the spot, “you can see I’m fine. I’m not doing anything Garl wouldn’t approve of. Now you know that you can leave,” she turns back to me and promptly crosses her arms.
I swallow harshly, my Adam’s apple pressing tight against the collar of my uniform. “Very well,” I go to turn away.
I stop.
Slowly I turn my head back to her. As an idea flashes through my mind, I feel my cheeks and forehead tighten, my nose crumpling as my lips pull up. “Hold on.”
“What now? Are you here to admonish me on what I did in the square this morning? I’m telling you, Mae never told me the fan could do that. In fact, she hardly tells me anything at all. She snaps at me I’ll never make it and that I’m an ugly little mountain bear. So if you’re looking for a sorry, you’re looking in the wrong place. Go find Mae.” With that, Yin turns with a huff and pretends to look at one of the books she’s stacked by her feet.
“I need to ask you something,” I take a step toward her, but she doesn’t turn.
Frustration peaks in my stomach. For all Yin’s power, she acts like a child. While a part of me understands this situation must be hard for her, the rest of me is appalled by her lack of etiquette.
She is completely the opposite of the Princess. Mara is refined, polite, gentle. Yin, on the other hand, is boisterous, rude, uncultured, and irritating. Truly irritating.
Maybe it’s my leftover anger and confusion at Castor, but frustration curls higher in my stomach.
“I’m still talking to you,” I say loudly. I usually attempt to control my voice – as a Royal Army sorcerer, I know how to act to keep a person’s confidence. Castor called it manipulation, but it’s more than that. I never choose to erupt – I leave that to sorcerers like Yin.
Right now, however, I can feel my anger igniting.
I don’t need this. With the shocking surprise of the Princess becoming the Savior, I have far more important things to worry about than Yin, no matter how mysterious she might be. In fact, come to think about it, her inclusion into this mess has done nothing but distract me.
I stop short of thinking it’s all her fault, but only just short.
Yin completely ignores me, grabbing up a book and leafing through it.
I’m unused to dealing with people so… childish. How can she ignore me when I’m standing right behind her?
I try to control my anger, but it keeps billowing up.
I take a step forward, pumping my left hand back and forth as I do.
Yin takes a step away, her back still to me as she continues to read the book she’s holding.
As my anger climbs through my stomach and to my throat, I act. With a deft, truly quick move, I step behind her and grab up her wrist.
The book falls from her grip, clattering to the floor.
At first, she doesn’t look at me. I’m standing right next to her, holding onto her wrist a little tighter than I should be, and she won’t even look up.
Slowly, she lifts her head, her eyes traveling from my hand to my arm to my neck to my eyes.
It’s categorically the most intimidating move I’ve ever seen. Which is quite a statement considering I have lived my life in the army. Yet as Yin coldly gazes my way, she looks more intently threatening than Garl himself.
Though my instinct is to drop her wrist before she can follow up her threatening gaze with an equally threatening attack… I don’t.
Again, it’s like staring into the heart of fire itself, waiting for it to engulf you.
“Are you scared? Do you need something to hold onto?” she asks as she stares at my hand. Though her words and attitude are undoubtedly challenging, I sense slight hesitation in her tone.
“I’m… not done talking to you,” I manage through bared teeth. I don’t mean to snap my words; it’s the only way they can come out.
There’s something about the mysterious Yin from the mountains that… unsettles me.
Though unsettle isn’t the right word, I can’t think of a better one as she continues to glare at me.
“Do you need some help taking your hand off my wrist? Is it stuck?”
I keep baring my teeth, but I don’t let go. “Stop acting like a child. I need to ask you some questions,” I say, unable to control the anger twisting through my tone.
She raises an eyebrow.
.…
There’s nothing that scares her, is there?
. . . Except for Garl.
I could mention him, warn that if she doesn’t cooperate completely, I’ll tell him.
Maybe I should. After all, my primary concern now is the Princess and her training, and Yin is an unwarranted distraction from that.
Maybe my thoughts play across my face, because her eyes open wider, her cheeks slackening. Slowly, she presses her lips in hard against her teeth. “Go ahead. Go tell him. That’s what you’re thinking, right? I’m not playing along, so go tell Garl and see what he does. Hey, maybe Garl will get his strange white and black guards to beat me into submission. Heck, maybe he’ll let you watch. You’d like that, right? Seeing me lose, that would make you so happy—”
“No. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you get hurt,” I say.
.…
I mean it.
The words flow out of me. Like water from a broken glass, there’s no way to catch them once they are out.
She looks shocked, and to tell the truth, so am I.
I let her hand go as I step backward. My move is a little too quick, though, and I bang up against the bookcase behind me. Without realizing it, I unsettle a book from the highest shelf, and it comes tumbling down.
Quicker than a mountain lion, Yin steps in, lifts up, and snaps the book out of the air before it can hit me on the head.
Without a word, she hands it to me and steps back. Then she crosses her arms and leans into the bookcase.
I hold the book, my fingers a little sweaty. “I… thank you,” I manage.
She nods. “What do you want to know?” she asks quietly.
“Whatever you know about Castorious Barr,” I practically whisper.
Her expression crumples. “Sorry, what?”
“Does he have his own magic?” I ask directly. I don’t have the time to choose my words carefully – I need to know what Castor is capable of. I also can’t waste any more time with Yin – the Princess is still waiting for me.
Reminding myself of that fact, I draw up to my full height and wait for Yin’s answer.
“No,” she says, looking shocked. “Everyone knows that.”
“I know the story. He can’t practice ordinary magic, nor illusion, nor any of the other kinds. But…” I trail off, trying to put my diffuse suspicions into words.
“But what? Castor doesn’t practice magic. Believe me, I would know,” Yin interrupts.
I look at her from under a crumpled brow. Is she telling the truth? I can tell my question has shocked her, and her usual defensive expression has given way to crumpled-nos
e confusion.
“He’s powerful,” I say flatly, trying to figure out exactly what I’m trying to ask.
Is Castor a danger to the Kingdom? Does he have something planned?
“Look, he doesn’t have any magic, and you’re right, he is powerful. But what’s this about? Why do you care? You haven’t seen him, have you?” her eyes suddenly light up with hope. It’s so very different to the fiery challenging look she’s usually shooting me. Now her cheeks are slack, her lips parted as she waits for me to answer.
“I… no,” I lie.
She crosses her arms tighter. “I can see you’re lying. Fine, whatever. Don’t tell me. But don’t expect me to answer your questions,” she snaps.
Again my hackles rise at her reaction. She is so quick to anger and bite back. She doesn’t pause to assess a situation – she jumps in snarling like a lion.
“You have an obligation—” I begin.
“Don’t threaten me,” she says. If she snarled before, it’s nothing to the vehemence behind her words now. They could shake right through a man and leave his courage as nothing more than dust.
I take an involuntary step back, my eyes widening at her tone.
She takes a step back too, checking over her shoulder as she does. As a touch of fear tightens her neck muscles and contracts her cheeks, it’s clear she’s worried her guards will hear and interrupt us.
“I’ve seen him. In fact, I saw him less than ten minutes ago. He’s at the barracks,” I say.
I shouldn’t. I should keep my mouth shut and not breathe a word of Castor’s presence; there is no good reason for Yin to know.
I can’t stop myself, though.
Her threatening expression completely collapses. It’s like watching a wall fall down. She lurches forward slightly, her eyes darting about as she searches mine. Whereas once they burned with hatred, now they flicker with tears. “He’s here? You’re… not lying? Can I see him? Is he okay?”
I’m not prepared for her onslaught of emotion. It’s so… real. She isn’t holding anything back, isn’t hiding how she feels.
It reminds me of how she danced in the rain only that morning. Without a care for who was watching. Now she doesn’t seem concerned about showing her vulnerability as she takes another step toward me. “Please, let me know.”
“He’s fine. He’s been staying at the palace. He is working… with the Royal Family,” I say, surprised at my own honesty, yet still careful enough not to share the full story.
I watch her nose crumple as her head jerks back slightly. “The Royal Family? What? Castor hates—” she cuts off quickly.
Now I step forward. “He hates what? You said before he despises class inequality. How much? I mean, would he be prepared to… do something about it?” I can’t find the right words, and the ones that come tumbling out are weak, but the sentiment is there.
I take another step forward. She doesn’t shift backward, she just looks right up at me.
“No,” someone answers.
It’s an unmistakable voice, and with a snapped move, I turn to see Castor walk up behind me. I twist so quickly, my armour clanks and my boots scratch the floorboards.
“Castor,” Yin exclaims as she anchors a hand on my arm and pushes past me.
She flings herself past me and right at Castor.
Though he accepts her embrace, almost immediately he pushes her back.
I can see her shock. No, I can feel it. It washes off her in waves.
“Castor, I… where have you been?” Yin asks, her words thick with tears.
They streak down her cheeks, collecting along her chin, but not once does she move to wipe them off. She’s crying, and it seems she doesn’t care.
Again I’m reminded of her dancing in the rain.
Castor barely looks at her. Instead, he shifts his gaze over her head and locks it on me.
Though his expression is not outwardly challenging, my skin crawls.
“Captain Yang, you will learn nothing from my former apprentice that you can’t learn from me. You don’t need to interrupt her training when all you have to do is ask me instead,” Castor says.
His voice is controlled, smooth, and calm.
Yet it feels like ice forming in my blood. There’s just… such a cold, warning presence about the man. It’s not in his tone, nor his expression, nor his choice of words.
It’s simply in him.
I start pumping my left hand back and forth.
“Castor, what’s going on?” Yin asks as she takes a step back, staring from me to her mentor. She locks a hand on her arm, and I can see from the white touch of her knuckles that she holds on fast.
I barely glance her way, though. Instead, I hold all my attention for Castor. Turning from him would feel like turning your back on a rampaging bear. Or, aptly, the most terrifying warrior in all the lands.
“Your presence is requested back in the discussion room. We… wish to convey that we are now ready to begin where we left off,” I say, muddling over my words as I try to hide the truth from Yin.
She’s still slowly turning her head between the both of us, her confusion so palpable, it feels like I could reach out a hand and hold it.
“From that rather opaque statement I take it to mean the Princess is now ready to train on my terms,” Castor smiles.
I balk. “This is no place to discuss this,” I say quickly.
“It isn’t?” Castor barely looks at me as he now swivels his attention to Yin.
She is understandably confused. “What’s going on?” she hisses.
“You are sworn to secrecy,” I quickly interrupt.
Castor doesn’t even look at me. Instead, he stares at Yin, his gaze darting down toward her left hand.
She’s secured the bandage over her hand once more, even though there’s no injury to protect.
“What happened?” he reaches toward her.
When she hugged him before, he barely reacted. Now that facade of indifference collapses. He looks exactly as protective as he did in the cart when he warned me he would break me.
Yin snaps her hand back before he can touch it. “Nothing. Nothing happened. It’s fine. I just cut myself a little. But it was pretty small, and it has healed already,” she says in the same breath, her words a rambling mess.
“How?” Castor asks .
“They made me fight… I can’t remember what they’re called… but they can make themselves go invisible. I just… got sloppy and must have injured myself. I’m fine, though. It’s healed. I found the best herbs in the infirmary, and they worked fast.”
“Illusionists,” Castor says. He looks at me. “They’re called illusionists. It… surprises me they made you fight one.”
“Two,” she corrects, her breath still quick and filled with nerves.
“Two,” he repeats. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he adds, “you must have made quite an impression if they requested you train with such… merciless opponents.”
“It wasn’t really a request,” Yin notes as she hides her left hand behind her back.
Castor nods.
He doesn’t turn to her once. He holds all of his attention for me. “Well, I trust you aren’t giving anyone trouble,” he says quietly.
Yin looks powerfully confused now as she bites her lip. “I… Castor?”
“I trust you will also be more careful. Now, if you will excuse us, Captain Yang and I need to discuss something with her Royal Highness Princess Mara,” Castor nods at me.
I don’t return the move.
Instead, I wait for him to tell Yin everything. That’s what he’s going to do, right? That’s what this whole strange routine is in aid of.
Or is he trying to unsettle me further?
“I… but… what’s going on? When will I see you? Do I have to stay here?” Yin begins, her words a torrent now. “I want to go home,” she adds, her voice shaking so much it makes me shiver and blink quickly.
I still don’t shift my gaze off Castor, th
ough.
“You are no longer my apprentice; I now work for Princess Mara. You are now at the disposal of the Royal Army. You will never go home again,” he adds as he turns from her.
She chokes, slamming a hand over her mouth as more tears race down her cheeks.
“Study hard; the Royal Army does not accept failure,” with that, Castor turns to the shelf, selects a book, and hands it to her in a fluid, smooth move that sees him barely stopping as he walks away.
For the first time, I take my eyes off him, and I watch her.
With tears streaming down her face, she closes her eyes and hugs the book close to her chest.
Torn between staying and following – even though I have no reason to comfort her – I turn away and jog to reach Castor.
He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t look back – he marches for the door.
I’m barely a step behind him, and I feel like I’m walking in the wake of a tidal wave. Officers and soldiers move out of his way wordlessly, and I see the reverence flashing in the gazes.
There’s no reverence in mine, though. Just confusion and repulsion.
Yin, despite her annoyances, didn’t deserve that.
It’s clear Castor is the closest thing to family she has. Yet apart from his brief interest in her injury, he showed her nothing but cold disdain.
I press a hand into my face, wiping it down my closed eyes as I follow Castor silently into the hallway.
Again anyone in our path moves away without request. I half start to wonder if the very walls would do it too if Castor walked close enough to them.
It’s as if nothing would dare get in his way.
“There’s nothing she can tell you,” Castor speaks as we enter an empty hallway.
I don’t answer, but I do shiver.
“She knows nothing of my past.”
I don’t speak. I walk a step behind him.
“Is it standard practice to pit a recruit against illusionist assassins? Or is Garl trying to send me a message?” Castor suddenly asks.
I blink back my surprise at his question.
He stops. Dead in the middle of an abandoned corridor, he turns to me.
“I asked you a question? Is Garl trying to send me a message?”
“Garl…” I begin.
“Did they have knives?” Castor changes the topic quickly.
“Sorry, what?”
“The illusionist assassins – did they carry knives. That’s what they usually carry. That is how they kill so quickly and silently. Now, tell me, did Garl arm them before he sent a woman against them? It sounds like something he would do.”
I shake my head. “Garl is—”
“Ruthless. A man who gets what he wants no matter the cost. Now answer my question. Is that how she was injured? Defending herself from an armed enemy she has never seen and has no training against. Unless things have changed, it takes years before a soldier is ever pitted against an illusionist – to do so early would lead only to injury or death.”
“I… don’t know how she got cut. In fact… she’s not even injured,” I answer truthfully. I’m so flustered, I don’t realize what I’ve said until Castor’s eyes lock on me.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, and there’s such a commanding quality to his voice that it feels as if he’s somehow wheedled his way into my mind.
“Her hand is uninjured. I don’t know why she’s wearing that bandage. I saw her palm this morning – there’s no cut.” Though I know I shouldn’t be speaking to him, no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop.
It really is as if he’s in my head.
He takes a step closer to me, his expression darkening. “Tell me.”
“I… heard from the soldiers attending the fight she was injured badly – her left hand was covered in blood. But this morning, I could see no sign of any cut. She tried to hide it from me, but her bandage slipped off. She’s hiding something,” I add.
I… can’t stop myself from speaking.
I try, with all my might I try, but I am being compelled, and I can’t fight it.
Staring at him in horror, I repeat, “she’s hiding something.”
Castor shifts his head to the side, a calculating look flashing in his eyes. “Let us return to the Princess,” he says.
I blink, staggering back. “What… what did you just do to me?” I say, my words a gargling jumble.
“Sorcerer, I told you I would break you. I told you it would be easy. It is.” Castor turns and walks away.
I stand there with a hand hooked on the wall for support, breathing as hard and fast as I can. With my chest pumping against my armor and sweat pouring down my brow, I watch Castor get further away. “Stop,” I manage through a wheeze. “Stop.” I push myself up and command magic to burst over my hand.
It’s cold. No, frozen. The feeling of it jumping out of my body bleeds the emotion building within.
That cold certainty and comfort my magic has always given me bolsters me now.
Castor slowly turns. “Whatever you say to Garl, it won’t matter. Whoever you tell, it won’t matter. Nothing you do, Captain Yang, will matter.”
I take up a defensive stance, the magic now gushing down my arms as it whips faster and faster around my outstretched hands. Despite the fact there is little light in this corridor, a blue glow emanates from the center of my Arak band, illuminating my arms in an eerie, cold fire.
“You’re planning something, and I am not going to let you get away with it,” I manage as I draw in another cooling breath. As the magic builds within, it keeps bleeding the feeling from me until I feel numb.
Thankfully numb.
No more confusion, no more fear. Just nothing at all.
Castor smiles. “I’ll admit, you are very good. I can feel your control even from here. Your connection to your Arak device is strong. However, the spirit within is cold, leaving you completely open to attack.”
“Try it,” I say harshly. “I won’t hold back,” I assure him in another breath.
“I don’t want you to,” Castor exclaims.
I shift forward, my boots squeaking over the hard stone floor as I fling myself at him.
Castor doesn’t move as I send a powerful jet of magic shooting right toward him.
He stands there and takes it.
He is not wearing armor, and unlike a sorcerer, can’t summon his own magic to protect himself. Instead, he shifts forward slightly and lets my blow slam into the center of his unprotected chest.
Immediately the move reminds me of what Yin did in her first fight with Mae. Yet while Yin jumped and twisted and rolled, flinging herself with violent force at Mae’s attacks, Castor barely shifts.
Yet, somehow, my jet of magic breaks against him.
I shift back, but I don’t stay surprised for long. Instead, I swing forward with a violent move of my arm and send another powerful slice of magic shooting toward him. It’s enough to chop through a wall, and yet, as it reaches Castor, all it does is cascade off his chest.
Letting out a grunt, I move my whole body forward as I command all my magic, sending an enormous wave of power toward him. It’s enough to topple ten men, yet Castor… he walks right through it.
It breaks around him, sparks rushing down the corridor in great waves.
I rock back now, unable to contain my shock.
Castor takes the opportunity. Putting on a quick burst of speed, he flips right over my head.
Just as I shift back to defend myself, he anchors a hand on my neck and one on my arm. Then he muscles me to the ground in a powerful move that I can’t resist. Pressing my head into the stone, it’s clear I’ve lost.
Trying to wrestle free, I can’t. So I lie there, waiting for him to do his worst.
He leans down close to my ear. “If you are to be her guardian, you will need to learn to defend yourself better than that.”
I shift back, but he locks me in place all the harder and continues, “if you wish to learn to fight, you must find the
true base of your power. Not what the army has taught you – the spirit of magic. The fundamental base of the force your Arak band unleashes. Until you know that, you will be useless to her.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to protect Mara,” I snap back.
“Hmm, Mara, yes, of course,” he says distractedly. “But your best will not be good enough. If I can beat you, they will be able to as well.”
“. . . Who?” I stop struggling, my head now turned to the side as I breathe against the polished stone.
No matter how much I try to call on my magic, it will not come.
“They’ll come. This age is ending sooner than I thought it would. They will come. With the first drop of blood, they’ll be called to her. Now, if you want to fulfill your destiny, you must learn to fight.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I say through bared teeth. “Now let me up.”
“Learn an espre ritual, find your center,” Castor says. Then, without another word, he steps away.
I push myself up immediately, backing away from him and keeping my fists up as I watch him warily.
He raises an eyebrow and closes his eyes as if he’s bored by my act.
It doesn’t last.
The same fire I heard in his voice returns to his expression as he takes a step closer. “Tell Garl if you please,” Castor looks from my feet to my face, “but I would not trust that man if I were you. His goals are not yours. Nor are his methods. If you were to dig into his past, you would realize that, son of Baqu.”
I shudder back. Up until that point, I’d been determined to show no weakness, but now I can’t hold it back.
“I trained your father. In fact, he was the last person I trained before renouncing the Royal Army and leaving for the mountains. You have a little of him in you, but not enough,” he begins.
“Shut up,” I snarl.
“To ruin you,” he continues. “When I learned who you were, I thought you’d be irredeemable, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you can renounce your origin and find your own path, after all.”
“My father was a good man,” I spit, so emotional I’m actually shaking. My eyes are wide, and my lips jerk back and forth with every word.
“Your father was worse than Garl. Now you have two options – you either learn from his mistakes and walk away from his ways, or you embrace them. Do the latter, and I’ll kill you myself,” Castor warns.
“How dare you—” I begin.
“If you dare do anything to her, I will break you down, wall by wall, and watch you drown under the torrent of emotion you’ve pushed back and denied your whole life.”
I open my mouth. I’m full of hatred, disgust, and fire, but just can’t get it out. It’s stuck in a growing ball right between my chest and throat.
“Now. Learn. Go find the true base of magic. Commit the ritual. You’ll be useless to her until you have,” Castor turns and walks away.
“I’ll report you to the General,” I manage, only able to speak once Castor’s overpowering presence is gone from my side.
He doesn’t turn. “And say what? That the Kingdom’s most legendary warrior attacked you in a corridor… yet nobody saw and nobody heard?”
As he notes that, I realize that… somehow, no one has come out of the doors dotted along the hall, despite how loud our battle was.
.…
I look up at his departing form.
“Tell Garl. Share your suspicions. He won’t believe you. He needs me. And so, Captain Yang, do you. Follow my warning. Follow my advice. Or turn down the path of your father and see what horrors await you there instead.” With that, Castor walks out of sight.
He leaves me… a mess.
Breathing erratically, I push my back into the nearest wall, pressing a hand over my eyes.
I try, I try to control the torrent of emotion tearing through me. I try to stem the tide by building wall after wall before it. I can’t.
No matter what training I call on, feeling leaks through my defenses.
My father always told me that to be the best Royal Army sorcerer I can be, I must purge myself completely of emotion. No trace of feeling should remain in the body of a sorcerer – for feeling stops the control of magic. Worse than that, it directs it, when only the cold logic of the mind should.
I stand there for too long trying to get a handle on myself until I regain enough control to walk away.
Shaking.
Confused.
Terrified.
Yet… curious. More curious than ever, in fact, to find out what’s really going on here.
Before in the library, I concluded Yin was nothing more than a painful distraction. Now, however, I realize she could be the one and only key to finding out what’s really going on here.
It’s only that promise that sees me straighten my back, dry my brow, and continue on.