Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning

  Chapter 38

  Yin

  My life is so different now. I long for the simplicity of the mountains. Training in the morning, helping Castor in the afternoon, and wandering through the forests.

  I knew that life, I was comfortable with it. And within its structure, I could deal with the fact that I’m the Savior.

  Castor made it manageable. Every day he would train me more, helping me to feel that just maybe I can go through with this. That just maybe I can complete my destiny and bring the world into a new age.

  Now, I have nothing but questions. Nothing but uncertainty.

  This morning I couldn’t have imagined that I would be fleeing with Captain Yang of all people.

  I thought that one day Castor might come back to me, that one day he might knock on my door and pull me out of the barracks, taking me back to the life I once knew.

  Now I realize how naive that hope was. It was nothing more than a childish wish.

  My life will never go back to what it was.

  It will only go forward.

  Maybe I grip Yang’s arm a little harder as I realize that.

  For the past several months, I’ve been fighting the onset of the end of ages.

  Sure, at the barracks I convinced myself to garner any lesson I could to help me on my path.

  But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t fighting it. Refusing to open myself up to the possibility of what was right around the corner.

  Chaos.

  The foot soldiers of the Night crawling out of the cracks in the ground to claim me.

  Now… it’s right upon me.

  My life is quickening, pushing forward toward one inexorable conclusion.

  I shiver slightly. Trying to close the jacket around me with one hand.

  “We need to keep going tonight,” Yang says from before me. “I’m sorry if you’re cold,” he adds.

  I press my lips together and smile.

  Three weeks ago, if Captain Yang had said sorry, I would have known he was lying. A Royal Army sorcerer, I would have convinced myself he was capable of nothing but spineless, immoral manipulation. Trained from birth to purge his emotions, there would be no way I would trust him.

  Now, I can’t stop my lips from curling at his words and my heart from warming. As my heart warms, my skin does, natural magic flowing through my veins and soaring into my limbs.

  “Or you could just warm yourself up with fire,” he suddenly comments.

  “. . . You can feel that?”

  “Yes,” he says.

  .…

  While I have a connection to Yang, I can’t ignore the possibility he might have one to me.

  While I can read him like an open book, is it possible he can do the same when he stares at me?

  As a fire sorcerer, I’m used to showing my emotions. There are still some, however, that I choose to keep hidden.

  Not from Yang, apparently.

  For the first time, I truly wonder what my new life will look like. On the run with a man I barely know, and one who, up until hours ago, I wanted to punch more than talk to.

  Still, there’s nothing for it. There’s no other way.

  I can only go forward now.

  We ride well into the night. Though I’m tired, and I still ache terribly from the mysterious injury to my arm, I hold on. I don’t complain. I just keep going. A few times Yang asks me if I’m okay. I mumble a soft reply, if any, and I go back to concentrating on keeping warm and keeping upright. Though I’m tired, the last thing I want to do is fall asleep on a speeding horse and fall right off. I’ll be useless to Yang if I’m injured.

  We don’t pause until the first rays of dawn light up the horizon. The colors that play along the wisps of cloud are majestic, and they easily draw the eye. From oranges to purples to flaming reds, they remind me how beautiful nature can be.

  The Royal City is meant to be attractive. The Palace, apparently, is meant to be one of the greatest wonders of the world. With its obsidian steps and its golden pillars, it is a testament to human wealth. While the dawn, as it dazzles the grass plains and mountains behind, is a testament to natural wealth, to the underlying beauty of the land, stripped back from the machinations of men.

  I’ve long ago given up doing anything with my hair. It has become a riotous mess. Without anything to tie it down, it jumps up and down around my face with every stride the horse takes. Messy hair, however, is the least of my problems.

  A few times I run a hand up my left arm, tentatively touching my wrist and palm.

  Did Garl really do that to me? I hadn’t even thought it was a possibility until Yang mentioned it.

  I distinctly remember the hatred in Garl’s eyes when he threatened me. I have no questions that he is capable of doing something like this; he has no compunctions to hold him back.

  .…

  Still, I can’t quite push away the possibility that what’s happening to me has something to do with the fact I’m the Savior.

  Even as I think that, I shiver.

  “We will stop soon, sleep for an hour or two, and continue,” Yang says as he half turns around.

  He is no longer wearing his helmet. In fact, he wanted to throw it away, and he tried to. I stopped him, though. Not because I thought he would regret it later, but because the heavy helmet is worth a pretty penny. Now we are both on our own, we are going to need to take every step we can to survive.

  Still, I can see how much he wanted to rid himself of that symbol. With dragons emblazoned over the metal, no doubt it reminded him of everything he just turned his back on. From the Royal Army to the Royal Family, his armor is one of the last symbols he has that connects him to his old life.

  And me… I have nothing. No, as soon as I think that thought, I dismiss it.

  I have something.

  The training Castor gave me, the strength I learned while at the barracks. I have the power, in other words, to rely on myself. That’s all I need. Not fancy armor, not money, not the trappings of success. Self-reliance.

  True to his word, we soon stop. He pulls up close to a babbling brook, taking the horse down to the bank and letting it drink.

  With a hand on the creature’s neck, I watch him as he stares past the creek, up to the dawn above. Though I can’t see his expression in full, the quality of his gaze is… sorrowful.

  I still can’t believe he was willing to give up so much for me. If not for me, then for a sense of morality I thought he never had.

  “Yang, thank you,” I say suddenly as I take a few steps away and turn to face the dawn myself.

  “You don’t need to thank me. But… I would like to know more about you. Now that we are… traveling partners, I want to know who you are. Did Castor really just take you in off the street and look after you because nobody else would? Why are you… so strong? Did he teach you how to use magic like that, or is it a natural skill?”

  Once Yang gets started, it’s like a dam has broken, and question after question comes flooding out.

  At first, I’m surprised, then I slowly press my lips together and draw them in.

  I thought I had made my peace with the fact I’ve given up my old life, that I’ve left Castor behind, and must now forge ahead on my own.

  Yet, now, as Yang questions me so eagerly, I can’t answer him.

  Instead, my shoulders pressing together, I clutch one hand on my stomach and turn from him to stare at the view instead.

  “Yin, please. Tell me. It’s not like I have anyone else to tell,” he says bitterly.

  Slowly I swivel my gaze to stare at him.

  He looks different without his helmet. Or maybe he looks different without that facade of cold indifference. He is no longer numb; I can see the emotion rippling over his face just as obviously as day compared to night.

  Suddenly he sighs, and that once eager look in his eye is replaced with a tired wince. “You must be fatigued. Ignore me. Drink and wash,” he says as he glances down at my still bloodied tunic. “I will go and s
ee if I can find any food.”

  He begins to walk away.

  I should let him walk away.

  I can’t.

  “Castor didn’t take me off the street,” I say in a stuttering voice, feeling like every word is a drop of blood I’m freely giving up, “and he trained me because…” I trail off.

  “Because why?” he prompts gently.

  “Because he thought that one day it might be important,” I manage, my voice so quiet I doubt he can hear me.

  “Why?”

  Why.

  Because I’m the Savior, the last of the sages, and the only one who can save the age of light.

  But how do I tell that to Yang? Like most other people, he probably thinks the Savior myth is just that, a myth. If I tell him, he’s either going to laugh in my face or walk away from me, thinking I’m crazy.

  So I hold my tongue.

  “He never told me. He kept a lot from me,” I say slowly, and as I speak, I realize it’s true.

  Castor was always holding back. He would always tell me that he would reveal what I need to know when I need to know it.

  And ever since abandoning me for the Princess, I realize how true that is.

  Though Yang was halfway through turning away, he stops. He doesn’t say anything, he stares at me for a few seconds. “I know what it’s like to have people keep information from you,” he says. Then he hesitates. He seems as if he’s ready to tell me something, but then he withdraws. “I’ll go find some food. Wash up.”

  I nod, then I stand there and watch him walk away.

  In fact, I don’t turn until he is completely out of sight, behind a thicket of trees and bushes.

  .…

  “I’m the Savior,” I say in the tiniest voice possible.

  He is far too far away to hear me.

  “Captain Yang, I’m the Savior,” I say again, as quietly as I can.

  It feels good to say it out loud. It feels like fighting against the secrecy that has kept me locked in my whole life.

  “You’re the first person I’ve ever told,” I continue whispering to myself, “but there it is, I’m the Savior.”

  I stare at the trees and bushes before me. From the gnarled branches to the twisted roots and leaves, I wait for him to suddenly dash out, his eyes wide.

  Of course he doesn’t; he never heard my admission.

  That doesn’t diminish my desire.

  I want to tell him, I want to tell someone, anyone. I want help, more than Castor, someone else to rely on. Someone else to share the burden with.

  .…

  But I can’t tell him yet.

  So I turn, and I face the cold stream next to me. I watch the water flow in and out, cascading around any rock or branch in its path. So fluid, so unstoppable.

  I’m drawn into that movement.

  I close my eyes.

  Reminded of the freedom I experienced during the fan dance, the connection, the balance, I breathe deeply. Then again, then again.

  When I open my eyes, I stare up at the horizon and the glowing dawn with a new sense of possibility.

  There may be hardships on the horizon, but there’ll be surprises too. Opportunities.

  Endure, then fight.

  Endure then fight.

  That is what I will do. Whatever uncertainty is thrust before me, I will plow through it. I will learn what I have to do as the Savior, and I will fulfill my destiny.

  Finally, I turn from the dawn, and I lean down and plunge my hands into the cold water.

  Though it chills me, sapping at the heat in my fingers and palms, it also thrills me.

  Water, an element completely opposite to fire, and one I have never understood.

  Not truly.

  Yet one I am now inexorably linked to.