Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning

  Chapter 6

  Yin

  I wake with a start.

  I come plummeting out of unconsciousness like a rock thrown off the highest tower. I spring forward, jumping up with the momentum of waking up.

  I feel like I’ve been hemmed in by a wall that somehow trapped me in sleep.

  Just as I jump forward, somebody wraps an arm around my middle and holds me in place.

  I open my eyes. In fact, the lids jerk wide with such speed it feels as if I’ll tear the skin.

  My hair flying about my face with the force of my move, I suddenly realize that someone’s in front of me.

  My mind takes seconds to catch up. It’s Captain Yang. As I jerk toward him, he jerks backward. His face is awash with surprise, those pale brown eyes as open as they can be.

  “Yin,” I hear Castor call my name, and suddenly realize that he’s the one holding me.

  My mind struggles to catch up.

  As it does, I stare with open eyes at Yang. My hair slowly settles across my shoulder and brushes against my face, and my limbs, once twinging with action, now relax.

  “You’re safe,” Castor says as he tries to guide me backward.

  It’s then that I realize I’m in a cart of some description. Through the small barred windows, I can see the road outside. I can also hear the clip-clop of horse hooves and feel the rotating wheels underneath the floor.

  How on earth I got here, I have no idea.

  I let Castor pull me backward until I sit roughly on a decidedly uncomfortable seat.

  “You’re safe,” Castor repeats once more as he lays a hand heavily upon my shoulder. The weight of it is reassuring, and I don’t try to shrug it off.

  Instead, I rest further back into the wall and into his grip. It takes several seconds to open my lips and ask, “what’s going on?” My voice is croaky and weak, and as I bring a hand up and pat my throat, I realize I’m weary with fatigue.

  I feel like I’m still half-asleep.

  “How did you wake up?” Captain Yang asks. Though he’s no longer plastered against the far wall in total surprise, I can still see shock flickering in his gaze. Which is unusual, because my only impression of the man so far is one of complete emotional control.

  Well, right now he looks less like the epitome of calm, and more like an ordinary man.

  But all too soon he gets a handle on himself. Lengthening his back and tilting his head down, he clears his throat.

  “What’s going on?” I ask as I run my fingers over my wrists, noticing the cuts and gouges.

  “Stay calm,” Castor says.

  Calm?

  I can’t remember how I got here. In fact, the last thing I remember is… the Night.

  I jerk back with such force, my shoulder impacts the wall and dents it.

  I hear the horses neigh, and from outside a gruff voice asks, “what’s going on in there? Captain?”

  Yang doesn’t answer immediately; he’s too busy staring at me with surprise. But as the soldier asks again, he clears his throat and says, “it’s fine, it’s fine.”

  It’s not fine.

  Pressing my palm into my face and letting my crooked fingers push into my mud-caked hair, I close my eyes.

  As soon as I see the darkness, I jerk them open again.

  “You are safe,” Castor says in his most calming tone. He weighs his hand further into my shoulder, his fingers spreading as their warmth travels into my skin.

  I’m safe.

  I try to hold onto that fact, and the more I look around me and see that the Night isn’t crawling up from the cracks in the floor or groping through the bars on the windows, I realize Castor is right.

  But he’s also wrong.

  As I calm down enough to realize the Night is not about to claim me, I understand I still have other problems.

  My memory catches up to me, and I realize with a cold shudder that I must be on my way to the capital. The soldiers must have defeated me, knocking me out and shoving me into this cart.

  At least Castor is here, though.

  .…

  He’s here. In the same cart as me. So why hasn’t he done anything? There’s only Captain Yang, and presumably a few soldiers on top of the cart to control the horses.

  I’ve fought Castor, and I know from experience how powerful he is. It would not be beyond his skills to overcome Yang and the rest of those soldiers.

  So why hasn’t he done that?

  Slowly I turn to him, my lips parting as I shiver once more.

  He doesn’t say anything, shaking his head instead.

  “How did you wake up?” Captain Yang asks, and again I hear his calm tone waver. In fact, his expression is contorted too, his brow crumpled and his cheeks slack.

  “. . . You put me to sleep,” I realize, remembering him leaning down and pressing his thumb into the center of my head.

  Again I shudder back, but this time I quickly damp down on my fear with anger.

  I press the fingers of my left hand into my palm, curling them until the nails dig directly into the flesh.

  Though I still feel half-asleep, that won’t stop me from fighting. While Castor seems reluctant to take on these soldiers, I’m not.

  But he won’t let me. Gently Castor leans forward and wraps one of his large hands around my wrist.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as I try to jerk back from him.

  “You can’t fight them,” he says.

  He’s wrong; I can. I will.

  But he won’t remove his fingers from my wrist.

  “Listen to your uncle,” Yang speaks, “we don’t want to hurt you,” he adds, sounding sincere but still a little unsure of himself.

  With one look at him, I can still feel the surprise rippling off him.

  In fact, it contorts his handsome face and makes his manly build seem small.

  “Try to rest,” Castor suggests in a soothing voice.

  Rest? We are in a cart traveling toward the capital, where no doubt we will both be delivered to the army. While Castor will be drafted, I’ll probably be locked in jail.

  How exactly am I to rest when I should be fighting?

  But no matter how hard I try to yank my hand free from Castor’s grip, he won’t let me. He simply holds on with his usual willful determination.

  Eventually, I give up, sinking my teeth into my lips as I do.

  “Try to rest,” he suggests again.

  “I’d rather not take my eyes off him,” I snarl as I cross my arms and stare directly at Yang.

  At first, he looks taken aback, but all too soon I watch him gather his control. He sits taller, angles his head down, and even shifts his helmet until it hides the majority of his gaze in shadow.

  I’m unimpressed, and just cross my arms tighter.

  “I’m not a threat to you,” he says as he brings his hands up wide and spreads his fingers.

  “Yeah, right. That’s why you’re taking us to the capital. But hey, if you’re not a threat, you won’t mind if I let myself out?” I ask as I point a thumb to the bolted door next to him.

  Yang slides his gaze across to the door, then back to me. He doesn’t drop his hands, though. Again I feel like he’s exuding calm, like he’s just about as sincere as any man can be.

  It would be so very easy to trust him, I suddenly realize.

  After all, apart from restraining me when I fought his men, he hasn’t outright attacked me, has he?

  I feel my arms loosening their grip.

  .…

  He smiles. It’s gentle. Or at least I think it’s meant to be gentle.

  That sets me off again. Men like Captain Yang have no business smiling at women like me. I have nothing to give him, and even if I did, I wouldn’t.

  I clear my throat. “Castor isn’t going to hug you, so I suggest you put your arms down,” I snap.

  Yang splutters, and I swear Castor gives a soft laugh.

  “I don’t care how trustworthy you seem, I only care about what you do. You
might have promised that nothing will happen to me, but I’m going to wait to see what you really do.”

  Yang lets his arms drop into his lap, and he casts his wary gaze between me and Castor. Once again he looks less calm and sure of himself, and once more that makes him seem all the more like an ordinary man.

  He looks at me again, but the calm edge is now well and truly gone from his gaze, and he seems more than a little defeated. Then, with a shrug, he swivels that gaze to Castor. “I wouldn’t worry about your apprentice; she seems more than capable of looking after herself.”

  My eyebrows descend in a snap, and I open my mouth to say something, but Castor interrupts by laughing softly.

  Then we all descend into silence. A very awkward, pressured silence.

  I keep my arms crossed in front of my chest, and my hands curled into tight fists, and not once do I take my eyes off that man.

  I will escape. I promise myself that. I don’t care how long I have to wait or how much planning I have to do, but I will free myself from Yang’s clutches.

  As I stare at him, he does something unusual, and drops my gaze, preferring to look at the floor instead. Yet every few seconds, like clockwork, he glances my way.

  Though he no longer looks as sure of himself, something else now flickers deep within those pale brown eyes. Curiosity.

  In fact, I’ve never had anyone, let alone a man, stare at me with such open intrigue. Derision, yes, but not this.

  Though I don’t want to rest, as the minutes tick past into hours, I grow tremendously bored, and occasionally let my eyes flicker closed.

  “Rest,” Castor encourages me, “you’re safe here, for now.”

  I mumble a “yes,” and despite the fact I try to stay awake, I find myself gently drifting off.

  Back into the arms of unconsciousness. But this time Yang doesn’t press a thumb into the center of my forehead; I fall asleep willingly.

  It’s an uneasy rest, though. Not even sleep can take away the certainty of what will happen next.

  My life is about to change, and apparently there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Yet.

  For I am the Savior, and I will find a way.