Chapter 34
Yin
I dream again that night and then again the next and the next. Though the dreams terrify me, I try not to let them affect me. Too much.
I hold onto my newfound power. I try to learn every lesson I can, no matter how humiliating.
Because, by and large, they are humiliating. Mae has a knack for insulting me, and always finds something I can’t do and proclaims it makes me nothing more than a dirty mountain bear.
I push through that, and I practice.
Before I know it, a week goes by and then another and another.
Time is drifting past me, and I try not to waste it. As the dreams worsen, I can’t deny what is coming.
The end of the age. I don’t know when it will be. A week from now, an hour, a year. But it is coming.
So I train and train.
I close in on myself, barely talking to anyone except for him.
Captain Yang.
It’s stupid, but if I even so much as glimpse him only once in a day, it lifts my mood.
He’s the closest thing I have to a friend now that Castor has abandoned me. That being said, I never see him as much as I would like.
Though we do train together occasionally, it’s only ever when Mae is busy. It’s only ever when Captain Yang isn’t. And frankly, he seems to be the busiest person I’ve ever met. There’s this cloud of responsibility that hangs over him, and I never see him crack a smile. That being said, he is a Royal Army sorcerer, and they aren’t exactly known for being emotional.
My days and nights are exactly the same, and I’ve fallen into a routine. Begrudgingly, I always do as I am told, and I very rarely act out anymore. I don’t even bother to threaten my guards. I just let them get away with the insults and the snickering, and I concentrate on the task ahead.
I use the library liberally, or at least whenever I’m allowed. I read everything I can, from training manuals to history. I want to find every edge, every weapon, every possible opportunity.
.…
It’s exhausting. I never stop, because I’m not allowed to.
As I walk out into the square for my morning training, I notice Mae is nowhere to be seen.
Some officer walks up to me, and rather than talk directly to me, he mumbles to my guards, “she is to train on her own this morning. Mae has been unavoidably detained.”
Without glancing at me once, he turns around and walks off.
One of my guards gestures dismissively into the square. “Don’t make any trouble, and stay in your section.”
I feign a smile and march down into the square.
It’s a beautiful morning, but it’s chillier than usual. My cheeks tingle with a brisk breeze, and I deliberately pump heat into my hands to keep them warm.
Then, without pause, I take up position and begin to practice.
I’ve become more fluid, and thanks to Yang’s tutelage, my balance has improved. In fact, though I can’t be sure, I feel I have improved in nearly every single way.
If only Castor could see me now. He always complained that I wasn’t disciplined enough, that I couldn’t focus when it mattered. Well now, discipline and focus are all that get me through each day.
As I pluck up my fan and begin to practice, I pretend it’s a sword. I wish it was the sword, but only Captain Yang lets me practice with one of those. And even then, I can tell he’s taking a risk.
It’s frowned upon for a lady to be able to defend herself properly, apparently. Sure, she gets a fan, and she is expected to dance around in a dress, but giving her an actual sword and armor would be a little too much like expecting her to fight.
All ladies are capable of is standing there and looking pretty.
Without Mae to snap at me, I begin practicing how Captain Yang taught me to. His forms are much more fluid than Castor’s. Castor taught me to be heavy but quick, strong but agile. Yang, however, blends everything into one continuous fluid movement.
I feel I’m getting the hang of it.
I try to practice every night in my room, and whenever Mae isn’t there to snap at me. Still, I want Captain Yang to replace her entirely, then I’ll be able to learn something worthwhile.
Captain Yang. There I go again thinking of that man. I swear, I’m thinking of him more than I’m thinking of the end of the ages and my duty as the Savior.
I’m not just distracting myself willingly; no matter what I do, my thoughts gravitate back to him like the moon orbiting the earth.
I tell myself it’s because he is the only person who has shown any real interest or kindness.
As I continue to practice, I notice everybody else in the square around me.
There’s always more soldiers about these days, and I gather it has something to do with the Princess’ regular visits.
I have no idea what she’s doing here, but I know it involves Castor in some way. He did mention he was training her. But why? I’ve had it drummed into me that women are very rarely trained, and only if they can offer the Royal Army something valuable. The Princess is… well, the Princess. The Royal Family are treated virtually like gods. Why would the Royal Army expect anything of her?
Though I have more than one million questions, there’s nobody to ask, so I keep to myself and mull over them as I twist and turn and jump and leap. I do as Yang says, and rather than follow the magic and overbalance myself, I push it out as an extension of will.
I wonder if he would be proud if he could see me now. But the fact is, I haven’t seen him for more than five days. The more the Princess comes to visit, the more absent he is. Does he have something to do with her training? It makes sense; that’s what Castor and he argued about in the library all those weeks ago.
“It’s not a sword you know; it’s a fan,” someone says.
I stop, letting the fan drop to my side, not caring that it has a charge of magic in it, and I turn and I smile.
I shouldn’t be smiling so widely and genuinely, but I can’t stop myself.
Yang comes walking across the square, his hands in his pockets.
He looks tired. Bone weary, in fact. His eyes are hooded in shadow, and his moves slower than usual.
My brow crumples in concern.
Yes, concern.
Several weeks ago, when I first met this man, I wanted nothing more than to put my fist in his face.
But things change.
“Well, you could go and get me a sword,” I suggest playfully.
He shakes his head, and I note again how tired he looks.
“Where have you been?” I ask carefully. At least I hope it’s carefully, but my voice teeters a bit.
Though he begins looking at his feet, he raises an eyebrow. “I thought you liked it when I left you alone.”
“Of course I do,” I snap defensively.
He nods knowingly. “Don’t tell me you are actually starting to take a shine to me?”
I blush. And when a sorcerer like me blushes, you can see it two kilometers away. My cheeks could fry eggs.
He clears his throat.
I shift about a bit, trying to hide my flush. “I still think you’re an idiot,” I snap automatically.
“Well at least some things don’t change,” he says. There’s a sad note to his voice.
I start to wonder where he has been for the past five days. More than that, what has been haunting him recently?
The Captain Yang I met back in my village was nothing but a calm, controlled Royal Army sorcerer. Cold and numb to the world. His emotions were a tool to get other people to do what he wanted.
Now I’m looking at a completely different person. This Captain Yang is nothing more and less than a man.
“I’ve been practicing,” I suddenly say.
He looks up at me and slowly nods. “I saw. You’re doing great,” he says.
It’s awkward, but he doesn’t take his statement back, and I am quick to bite my lip, lest another incandescent blush bloom across my cheeks.
We d
escend into silence. A particularly uncomfortable one. It sees me trying to fix my hair, even though I usually don’t care what it’s doing. The unruly stuff at the top of my head is usually of no concern to me. Now I try to brush it into place.
“They tell me you’re exceeding expectations,” he says quietly.
“They do? All Mae ever tells me is that I’m useless and have no hope of being anything but a dirty little mountain bear. I’ve actually met mountain bears, and that’s not so much of an insult; they’re quite nice.”
Though Yang starts looking at his feet distractedly, his eyebrows peak and he glances at me. “Mountain bears are quite nice? They are vicious,” he laughs disbelievingly.
“I’ve always liked animals. They are simple.”
He nods, his hands still in his pockets.
I want to ask what’s wrong, but I know that won’t help him.
If it’s something serious, he won’t say, and even if it isn’t something serious, he will still keep it close to his chest. Royal Army sorcerers, after all, aren’t exactly known for sharing their emotions.
There is one way I can help.
Distract him.
“I’ve been looking up more about the fan dance,” I say as I unfurl my fan in a neat move. “Isn’t there some ancient form you can do with a partner? One where you keep swapping the fan around, throwing it to each other and charging it in turn?”
He stops looking at his feet, his eyebrows crumpling further together. “Yes…. Why?”
I can tell I’m being awkward, but I don’t care.
Sometimes you just have to dance in the rain while everybody is watching.
Without pause, I close the fan and hand it to him. “Well, show me.”
His cheeks slacken, and his mouth opens slowly. “Show you. I… don’t think you quite understand what you’re asking.”
I start to get defensive but just huff instead. “I’m asking you to show me how it is done. I don’t care if I’m stepping on some tradition. I just want to know what it looks like. I’m here to learn, so teach me.”
He clears his throat, and now he takes his hands out of his pockets as he clasps them carefully but firmly before him. “Yin, the fan dance is usually done before marriage. It balances male and female energy. When two sorcerers intend to form a union, then…” he trails off.
I can feel my cheeks starting to blush again, but I lift my head and stare at him. “It’s also done as a ritual for Gaea. That was its intended purpose originally. It had nothing to do with marriage; that’s the modern concept. At least, that’s what it says in the books I’ve read. The dance is about bringing the flow and force of magic into balance, and nothing more. Tradition came along after and attached gender to it. It doesn’t matter that I’m a woman and you’re a man, the original dance was only about magic.”
He coughs uncomfortably.
I still hold the fan out to him, but he looks at it like it’s a snake.
“I can’t,” he says, losing that confident edge completely and looking exactly like an uncomfortable boy.
“You can. A while ago you asked me how to reconnect with the spirit of your magic. Well, maybe this will help. I just want to see it done. I just want to… learn whatever I can. Please?”
He still looks like I’m asking him to do something incredibly embarrassing, but as he winces, he accepts the fan.
I grin wildly.
Yes, I grin. At Captain Yang. But it doesn’t matter.
I want to see this dance.
“Okay, but I am not doing this in public,” he says as he looks to the side at all of the other soldiers in the square. Though they are well out of earshot, I know that if we start to practice, they’re close enough to see.
I nod excitedly. “I don’t care. I just want to see it.”
He sighs, and it’s very deep and resounding. “I don’t know why I can’t say no to you,” he says under his breath, then he stops, and straightens up as he realizes what he said. “Just come on,” he says as he waves me forward.
After muttering something to my guards, he leads me across the square.
I feel more alive than I have in weeks.
“There are several other training squares, though a lot smaller,” he notes as we walk up the stairs and down toward a small corridor. Walking through it, we exit via a door into a much smaller paved area.
It’s far more ornate than the one we left. In fact, as I stand there and stare at it, I slowly circle on the spot, my mouth open as I survey all of the intricate details. From the carved pillars to the golden blue awnings.
“Yes, it’s nice, isn’t it?” he points out as he walks roughly into the center of the square. Then he does something odd. He jumps up a little and angles his head high toward the only window with a view of the courtyard.
“. . . What are you doing?” I ask after a while.
“Trying to see whether Garl is in his office. I really don’t want any witnesses. People could get… the wrong impression.”
“You wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re marrying a mountain bear,” I say sarcastically.
He stares at me.
He looks annoyed… and something else.
That something else makes my back tingle.
“Okay, I don’t think he’s in. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s at the Palace. So… just pay attention. I’m only going to do this once,” he says quickly.
I put my hands up. “Okay. You have my full attention, Captain Yang.”
He crumples his eyebrows together and looks at me tersely. “Right.”
“Right,” I repeat.
He winces, takes a step back, and unfurls the fan.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he says, clearly speaking to himself.
“Then you’d better do it. There’s nothing like breaking a rule,” I add, kind of babbling.
He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “Just pay attention.”
Then he begins.
It isn’t what I’m expecting.
I have in my head that he’ll start leaping around like the male equivalent of Mae. All refined and graceful, but with a bit more strength to his moves.
That’s not what he does.
He… simply moves.
There’s no other way to describe it. He doesn’t jump or roll or run. It’s just… amazing.
I think my jaw drops open.
I watch magic build around him, twisting up his arms and legs as his Arak device glows. His power travels into the fan. It moves so fluidly and seamlessly, it’s like it’s not moving at all. It’s as if it’s already where it needs to be, and space bends around it. In fact, as I think that, I realize that’s how Yang is moving himself. It’s as if he’s not moving at all, and yet moving everywhere at once.
It’s so confusing, because it’s something I’ve never seen before, something I’ve never experienced.
“All right, I’m going to throw the fan to you, and you need to follow the moves we practiced,” he warns.
I’m not ready for it, and kind of stumble forward, but at least I catch the fan as he throws it toward me.
I try to practice what I know.
The exact jumps and leaps, the exact movements of my feet and arms. But it all feels so unnatural, and as I muddle my way through, I notice the charge of magic in the fan begins to wobble.
Then, with nothing but a pop, it explodes out in a gush of sparks.
I splutter, patting wildly at my hair as it begins to singe.
Yang laughs. It’s a full bellied, proper laugh.
I stand there with my mouth open, staring at him. “What happened?”
“You lost the charge,” he says through a lingering chuckle.
“But I followed the moves I’ve been taught,” I complain as I wipe soot from my face and stamp out the last of his sparks.
He keeps laughing.
I want to tell him to shut up, but that would be against the point.
I asked him to show me the fan dance because I
wanted to distract him. And guess what? It’s succeeding. So it’s better to be humble and just let him laugh.
When he’s done, he reaches out his hand and takes the fan off me. “It takes a lot of practice for two people to be able to do this. There’s a lot of… trust involved,” he says carefully.
My initial reaction upon hearing that word is to snort. Every time he’s used it in the past he’s been trying to manipulate me.
Now I control myself. I actually hear what he’s trying to say.
“You have to rely on the other person. You have to trust they’ll be able to hold your magic,” he says as he gestures to the blue and red channels in the fan. “You have to trust that they’ll be there when you need them to be.”
I nod, locking my hair behind my ears as I do. Considering I just roughed it up as I extinguished Yang’s sparks, I know it’s a fuzz ball.
I try to run my fingers through it, but they get stuck.
“This time, just watch what I do and follow,” Yang says as he unfurls the fan.
I take several steps back, align myself with him, and then do exactly what he does.
As he shifts forward, so do I. As he furls out an arm, I do too. As he steps to the side then flips, I follow.
I’m like his mirror, mimicking him perfectly with barely half a second’s pause.
Something strange happens as I do that. It’s almost as if… the barrier between us crumbles.
It’s getting smaller and smaller and smaller. In fact, I can barely feel it anymore. It’s like I’m inside his head, and he’s inside mine.
Suddenly that half a second pause between us feels as though it disappears entirely. I’m moving exactly when he is. No pause, no wait.
No judgment. I don’t stop to consider what he’s doing. I don’t question him at all.
I follow. No, we follow each other.
I start to move a little on my own, inventing my own moves, yet he still follows.
Through it all, I never look away. I stare at him, and unblinkingly, he returns my gaze.
It should be the most confronting experience I’ve ever had, yet it’s not.
It’s the opposite.
It’s truly invigorating. Opening. Enriching. It’s like it gives me a glimpse into a world I never knew existed.
A world of perfect balance.
Without even realizing it, he throws me the fan, and I catch it, and this time, I don’t lose control.
I hold it, and I move, and as I do, my magic moves into it.
It’s seamless. Unstoppable even.
Now we no longer face each other. Without a word, I shift to the side, and so does he. Somehow he follows my movements even though my back is to him and his to mine. I shift forward, furling the fan out, and he does the same with his arm. Then I flip to the side, and he follows with perfect timing.
Time passes, I’m sure it does, but I no longer follow it. The only thing I’m connected to is him. To the balance between our two movements.
The point between force and flow.
I throw the fan back to him, then after a while, he throws it back to me. I lose track of how many times we repeat this, until finally, finally we stop.
Taking one step, our backs meet. Then, naturally, I let the fan drop.
It’s not charged and crackling like it was that day I practiced in the rain.
It’s… glowing. A mesmerizing, deep, pulsing light, the likes of which I’ve never seen before.
Slowly I let my arms drop, and then I feel him take a step away from me.
It takes a long time to turn, cradling the fan as I do.
I wasn’t expecting that. Heck, I’m still not entirely sure what I just experienced.
I thought the fan dance might teach me something, but it has taught me a lesson I’m not prepared for.
Over the past several weeks, I’ve tried to truly understand what balance is. Well, now I realize it’s something far more mysterious than I ever thought possible.
Yang doesn’t say anything for a while, in fact, nor does he make eye contact. He just looks… completely lost in thought.
Is he still embarrassed? Is he worried somebody might have seen?
I notice as he draws his hands up and turns them over slowly, staring at them carefully, paying particular attention to his Arak band.
His lips are parted, his eyes narrowed, but his expression isn’t one of shame or anger.
It’s total surprise.
“That felt… I…” he trails off.
“I…” I trail off too.
We look awkwardly at each other.
“I didn’t realize it was so… powerful,” I break my silence.
“It can be,” he says, choking over his words.
“I’ve never felt… so balanced, so in tune with my magic and my Arak device,” I say as I stare down at the fan. It’s still glowing, and I wonder how long it will hold its charge for. Is it dangerous? Will we have to find some way to discharge it into the sky again?
Perhaps Yang can read my mind, because he leans down and takes the fan off me. It is a particularly gentle move. He shifts past me and takes it so carefully, I’m barely perturbed by his presence.
“This…” he looks at the fan as he turns it over in his hands.
“Is it dangerous?”
He eventually shakes his head. “It’s… you don’t have to worry about it.”
“Why not? I thought you’d told me it’s dangerous to build up too much of a charge? That… well, it looks pretty charged.”
“It’s balanced,” he says, and I can hear how startled he is. His words are high and shaking, his eyes wide open as he continues to stare at the fan.
“So it is safe?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t we need to discharge it?”
“Leave that to me,” he says as he lets the fan drop to his side. He spends a long time staring at the ground between us until he lifts his gaze to meet mine. “That’s a fan dance,” he says with a swallow.
Considering his expression and the emotional charge in the air, I’d been expecting him to say something different.
I swallow too.
Locking my hair behind my ears, I nod, a little too enthusiastically. “I got that.”
He swallows again. Is there something stuck in his throat?
“You… did good,” he manages, wincing once he’s done.
“Did… it help you?” I suddenly ask.
“Sorry?” he stutters.
“To reconnect to your magic?” I ask quietly.
He doesn’t say anything for a long while, then he turns away. He looks up at the General’s window high above. After he seems satisfied, he looks at me again.
He nods.
That’s all he does.
Then he turns and walks away.
Without a damn word.
I stand there startled.
So it’s over? He can’t say anything more? Not even a goodbye? Is he that ashamed? Nobody saw us. Plus, what is there to be embarrassed about? We completed the fan dance in its original spirit; as an act of balancing magic, of force and flow, as a gift to Gaea. Who cares what tradition has grown up around it if that’s what it meant for us?
Or at least, that’s what it meant for me.
I think.
“Come on, we have to get out of here. I have no idea how long we’ve been here,” he says with a shaking breath, “so I have no idea how long it will be before Garl gets back.”
Though I want to be mad at him, I can’t. Not now, not after that. I’m still buzzing with the power from the dance. More than that, I still feel like I could take on the world.
He leads me out of the courtyard, then carefully through the hallways and doors until we make it back to the square. As he does, he takes off his helmet and tucks it close to the closed up fan, trying to secure it in his arms.
What is he doing?
Once we reach the square, there are too many soldiers for me to ask directly.
“Ex
cuse me,” he says as he walks up to one soldier, “do you know what time it is?”
“One o’clock,” the man says with a salute.
I watch Yang’s expression as the shock whitens his cheeks. “Are you sure?”
“The bell rang only a few moments ago,” the soldier notes with another salute before he walks away.
“We were there for two hours,” Yang says quietly, keeping his voice low as we walk past another group of soldiers.
Two hours?
I’ve lost track of time before, especially when I’m doing something exciting. But that… is insane.
We both look at each other worriedly. In fact, as we exchange that glance, it reinforces how… connected I still feel to him.
It’s as if I know what he’s going to do before he does it.
“How the hell did that happen?” he asks quietly.
“Is it… normal?” I question.
He doesn’t even bother to look at me. Instead, he latches a hand on his mouth, the fingers gripping hard into his chin.
“No,” he answers.
His answer gives me a thrill. It should terrify me, but it doesn’t.
As the Savior, I have to find tools powerful enough to help me with my sacred task. Before today I thought I had felt power, I now realize I hadn’t.
This experience is so astounding, it gives me a new kind of hope.
Yang, however, doesn’t seem as pleased. He’s shocked, and as he quickens his pace, worried too.
We make it back to where I was training, only to find one of my guards still hanging around.
As he sees Yang marching forward, he stops slouching against a pillar and gives a salute. “Sir, General Garl is looking for you. Where have you been, anyway?” The soldier asks as he looks directly at me and raises an eyebrow.
Yang clears his throat. “Training,” he says in a snap.
“Training, ha?” the guard notes with a slight smile.
“Yes, soldier, training,” Yang emphasizes the word soldier. “Now, stop wasting my time. Where is General Garl?”
The soldier stiffens up. “He’s up at the Palace, sir.”
Yang’s shoulders visibly deflate. “Very well. And where is Mae?”
“Also at the Palace.”
“I see. Take… Yin back to her room.” Yang nods at the soldier, then turns, and I can see he tries his hardest not to make eye contact with me. But he fails. Just for a second, he gazes at me, and I can see how… confused he is.
Confused and maybe just a little intrigued.
Is he shocked by what happened before? Was it normal?
I don’t get my answer. Instead, Yang turns, doesn’t say goodbye, and marches off.
Then I have to endure my guard looking at me sideways. In fact, his gaze darts from the top of my head down to my toes, then slowly back up again. Eventually, they focus somewhere around my chest.
I don’t bother crossing my arms. Instead, I say directly, “your eyes seem stuck. Do you want me to punch you in the side of the head to unstick them?”
He snarls at me.
I smile.
Then he leads me back to my room.
When the door is closed and bolted behind me, I don’t sit. I stand there and stare at my hands.
They still feel so full of magic.
Experimentally, I unfurl my fingers.
Sparks leap over them. It’s as if the enchantments holding my summoning at bay no longer exist.
They can’t hold me back anymore.
If I wanted to, I could send a shot of magic into the wall and shatter it completely.
In fact, I feel more powerful than I ever have, because I feel in balance, in tune. As if I’m resonating with the essence of magic itself.
I’ve never truly connected to Gaea before, but now I swear I feel her presence all around me. It permeates everything, and for the first time I can see that.
But that’s not all I’ve connected to.
Yang.
I still can’t get him out of my head, even though he left minutes ago. It’s as if he’s right by my side, as if we’re copying each other’s movements without realizing it.
“What is going on?” I ask slowly and quietly.
The walls don’t answer, but my heart does. And so does my Arak device. It sends a burst of crackling magic plowing through my veins, and it’s more invigorating than anything I’ve ever felt.
A new emotion.
A new kind of trust.
I don’t practice. I don’t feel I need to. Instead, I sit in meditation and think about what’s just happened and what might come.