Four Barbarian Generals: Dryth Chronicles Epic Fantasy (Celestial Empire Book 3) Page 2

  The thoughts followed Tristus while he followed Alere and Guang Ci into the underground. Xu Liang had reported to them that several preliminary searches had been performed, primarily on the chance that the geomancer Han Quan’s body might be easily found—alive or otherwise—within the first sections of cave. All that anyone had discovered, however, had been the remnant traces of the fact that a dragon and its offspring had recently dwelt beneath the city. None of the city’s men had gone much further than the areas Tristus and the others had already been to just prior to the dragon’s emergence. The delay was in the interest of safety, since it was not possible to know whether or not any more dragons were still utilizing the vast space. It seemed like a warren of phenomenal proportions, and Xu Liang and his peers were not interested in troops becoming scattered throughout corridors of unknown distance. This would be a task for the bearers of the Swords…for some of them, at least.

  Their situation at the Imperial City stood on the threshold of change, after only a brief time beginning to settle into their introduction to being there at all. Naturally, Xu Liang was needed elsewhere within the Empire. He could not rightly take individuals from outside of the realm who scarcely had even the lightest grasp on the language, whose deeds at Jianfeng were still only hearsay to many, and no doubt sensational to the ears of most. This was all going to take a great deal of care, and while Xu Liang had spent much of their journey toward Sheng Fan preparing them for just that, experiencing the process was quite different than merely anticipating it.

  With that fundamental truth firmly at the front of his mind, Tristus gave his full focus to the underground. The workers of the Imperial City had been swift and skilled at building the scaffolding and clearing out some of the debris, once given the order to do so. The tunnel they had first entered by way of a then intact temple had been exposed enough by now for men to easily make their way. The space remained eerily lit and somewhat warm with an underlying draft of cooler air keeping it breathable. The stench of a large animal and its hatchlings having occupied the caves was strong—more apparent to Tristus’ senses than it had been weeks ago—and would quite easily have been overwhelming without the movement of fresher air. The source of that air was something of a mystery for the time present, though Xu Liang suspected there were multiple outlets, and that Han Quan had surely used one in making good his escape.

  Tristus did not anticipate that they would find the elder. Han Quan possessed all the traits of a survivor, from what Tristus had witnessed thus far—one who would put his own survival above all else. The geomancer had found a way out, perhaps even by the aid of spells. Of that, Tristus was certain.

  At the bottom of the plank stairs, Guang Ci led Tristus and Alere through a small population of men at work transferring buckets of broken rock out of the tunnel. It appeared that, in the process of clearing the rubble, they were also preparing the immediate underground area for fortification. Since there were plans to build once again in the space the temple had occupied, it made sense to ensure that the new structure—or the rest of the west court for that matter—wouldn’t later drop into the hollow beneath it.

  It would be a lot of work, putting together something like what had been taken down by the dragon. Tristus imagined the full reconstruction of the west court might take years. In the meantime, there were other battles to attend to, battles which also involved rebuilding the stability of an empire.

  GUANG CI WALKED the pathway beneath the city with two of his fellow bearers close behind him. His gaze became set upon the opening to a crossing, which was nearly as far as any of them—or any of the Imperial guards—had gone. The first time, they had been stopped by a dragon. All times since, they had been compelled to turn back by order of the Imperial Tactician. In spite of that, the Night Blade had attempted more than once to entice Guang Ci further—with or without approval or allies. He determined that he would not go deeper into the caves until the order had been given, and he would not listen to the whims of Behel. In a way, he wanted to blame the heavy sword for Jiao Ren’s death. If it had not exhibited such behavior…

  But that was where he put the notion aside. He knew full well that weapons did not behave, they were behaved upon. It was his failing that had endangered the life of the general.

  Lord Xu Liang would not condone the belief, reminding that the Sun Blade had demonstrated power too great for either Jiao Ren or the dragon to endure. Jiao Ren’s sacrifice was a fate passed to him divinely.

  So, then we must die in order to wield these blades on your behalf.

  And that was as far as the thought ever carried in his conversations with the gods. Guang Ci reminded himself each time it formed that the Swords were not being wielded on behalf of the gods, but for the people of Sheng Fan, who would otherwise have insufficient defense against Chaos.

  At the threshold of the crossing, Guang Ci stood staring into the patchy darkness, his gaze fixed on the approximate location where the dragon had looked upon all of them. It had promised destruction with its eyes in those moments. Afterward it had cried out to demonstrate its power…and it had been interrupted by the Phoenix, by the god who was the beast-companion to the Spirit of the Winds, ushering clarity and vision to men of the mind and heralding change along its flight south, toward the Spirit of Fire, before whom the first physical phoenix had died. The beast was later resurrected in its spiritual form by the Spirit of Fire and sent north again, so that it might repeat the same cycle eternally. Legend credited the Phoenix for weather in the world of man.

  A dragon of the mortal plane was the constant beast-companion of the Spirit of Fire. Dragons were messengers of fate, and could be the bringers of many things, depending upon their form. The one in the tunnels had been a bringer of disaster and of doom. Guang Ci believed that had been proved true with Jiao Ren’s death alone. Guang Ci had not fully considered what the one at sea had brought during their voyage to the western realms. He could only be reminded that ultimately it had led all of them to this moment.

  “Guang Ci…”

  He heard his name, pronounced in the inelegant fashion of the western tongue. It drew him to look over his shoulder at Tristus, whose strangely light eyes conveyed sentiments of sympathy. Very briefly, Guang Ci took offense, and thought of the man’s weakness in the face of…

  In the face of memories that Guang Ci did not know about. Flashes of the house the Night Blade had been found in, and of the weapon’s previous bearer danced quickly at the front of his mind. He pushed the images away in disgust. And then he bowed his head, acknowledging Tristus’ concern.

  In the corner of his vision, he noticed that Alere was also watching him. And when he turned back around he knew that the two of them exchanged looks of concern with each other.

  PRESENTING THE DAMAGE done to the Court of the Sun had done less in the way of convincing the governors of their responsibilities and obligations than Xu Liang had hoped. It seemed to him that proof of the Swords and of their value as instruments of peace and restoration might quiet some of the governors’ collective pride while simultaneously bolstering their own sense of contribution to the Empire. They were needed, to support the very entity from which any of them had drawn their authority, prestige, and fame. Xu Liang assumed that in the spirit of the bearers—both mythological and mortal—the governors of the kingdoms would rise to a refreshed sense of duty.

  Unfortunately, the day’s largest complaints were of gold reserves, men, and food—all of which, he might remind them, they seemed more than willing to squander over petty conflict with one another and with the Empress. Battle was far costlier than the restoration of the west court.

  Of course, Ha Ming Jin had not even seen fit to retract his pride and stubbornness long enough to appear before his empress, though it had been commanded of him. His envoy had been well-versed in how to behave or had taken it upon himself to appear more humble than the governor he served, but Xu Liang tired of hearing the man’s constant insertion that Ha Ming Jin would be withhold
ing all support until the matter of his present grievances had been resolved. Xu Liang fully intended to resolve those grievances for the Xun governor, within the month.

  As to Xu Hong, his father had already stated his disbelief in the actuality of the dragon’s existence and in the authenticity of weapons that could so easily be defiled by the hands of barbarians. Xu Liang anticipated aid from him regardless, though with heavy stipulations. His demands would be reviewed. Xiang Wu appeared the most willing to provide whatever the Empress requested to support both the reconstruction of the west court and the southern altercation. Xu Liang could not be fully convinced by him, unfortunately, since learning of his attempts at undermining Song Da-Xiao through ill advisement. Still, the Northern Kingdom maintained its loyalty to the throne of Sheng Fan, even if not directly to the Song and its gifts of support would not be scorned or neglected.

  The Southwestern Kingdom of Tzu seemed indifferent, though with detectable notes of disdain. It had long been rumored that the Yuan leader harbored significant resent for the adoption of one of their own, which had led to the subsequent dismissal of their family name. These were Song Da-Xiao’s relatives by blood, rejecting her for decisions made well before her birth. Xu Liang understood the depth of the original offense; Song Dai had not been a man in need of sponsoring with the Tiger of the South Forests behind him. Some believed that he had insulted his ancestors—though his intent was ultimately to protect the Empire—and the transgression was not easily forgiven, not even after appointing imperial title and greater responsibility onto the Yuan family by naming them the protectors of Tzu.

  “We might well be funding the majority of the reconstruction and of any expeditions regarding related threats ourselves,” said Hao Feng discreetly.

  Xu Liang did not reply to the Minister of Policy’s statement immediately while he observed the governors and their various agents looking over the west court and speaking amongst themselves. Eventually, he said, “It’s not a matter of funding, so much as it’s a matter of support. The Imperial City easily has the resources to attend to the structural damages and to the efforts that will be made to silence the chaos. Doing so alone only absolves the governors of their responsibilities. They will grow increasingly distant and defiant if they’re not successfully encouraged to stand with Ji, as part of an empire.”

  Hao Feng was undoubtedly well aware, but the reiteration satisfied some of Xu Liang’s rising irritation. He had hoped for more and found himself disappointed. The Empress would share in that disappointment. He would advise her to enforce her decree, to Tzu especially. The Southwestern Kingdom’s inaction was both unsettling and intolerable. They would be made to demonstrate the level of their loyalty or their disdain, so that the need for action could be assessed. Du would be negotiated with, but only within reason. Ying’s support would be accepted without censure, in spite of the underlying conditions Xiang Wu seemed to be placing upon it. Xun remained the priority for taking action against. Ha Ming Jin’s forces had to be pushed back and the border of the Fa Leng Province reinforced.

  “Imperial Tactician,” came the voice of Xu Hong. The governor had pushed off his lean against the battlements and taken steps toward Xu Liang and Hao Feng. “You said that there were also smaller beasts—the offspring of the larger dragon. We see no evidence of this claim.”

  Xu Liang watched Xu Hong gesture animatedly toward the west court’s scarring and disarray—as if that were not enough evidence—and politely inclined his head before answering. “The dragon’s progenies were killed off in as great a number as the Empress’ soldiers could manage. Undoubtedly, some made for the sky and were lost to the wilds.”

  “I see,” Xu Hong replied, one large fist at his side while he briefly stroked his beard with his other hand.

  It was a moment of contemplation that might have encouraged hope in Xu Liang, if not for the likely fact that his father was considering how to make the claim appear foolish. Xu Liang was uncertain as to why Xu Hong should be so devoted to such a task, considering the manner in which he coveted his paternal claim over one of the Empress’ Grand Ministers. Perhaps Xu Hong had deemed it time to pull even harder from the Empress’ authority, which might have enabled him to finally let go of his constant desire to announce who his sons were.

  It was then that Xu Hong said, “Though I remain skeptical over the presence of a dragon within the walls of the Imperial City, I concede to the fact that the Imperial Tactician is not known for exaggeration. If your account of these events is so important, then we must all take heed and be grateful for your skill as a commander of the Empress’ troops, that more damage wasn’t done and more lives lost to such a tragic and unexpected circumstance.”

  In the moments that Xu Hong bowed, inspiring the other officials to do the same, Xu Liang glared. He would demand to know what it was that his father wanted later. For now, he returned the gesture of respect and acknowledgment.

  HA MING JIN observed the approach of Han Quan; a master of earth, formerly the Chancellor of the Imperial Court, and a scholar of singular renown. And now he was also known as a fugitive of the Imperial City—in his letter he claimed that if he appeared in Xun without anyone accompanying that he would be out of favor with the Empress, and that he would have extracted his services and his support from the kingdom of Ji. That was all well and good, but the old mystic had also claimed that he would have something significant in his possession, and it was that offering which would guarantee Han Quan’s asylum in Ha Ming Jin’s kingdom.

  From the throne he occupied as the King of Xun—a title that would soon be recognized throughout Sheng Fan—Ha Ming Jin waited for the elder to be guided the distance he was allowed to come to. Though he may not yet have been an emperor, Ha Ming Jin was still alert to the possibility of assassination. He understood that he had taken bold steps since his father’s death. He was a visionary, in ways that Xu Liang would never understand so long as he continued to remain an ornament within the Empress’ court…admired for his beauty and his loyalty, above all else. It was disappointing that Xu Liang did not simply take what was clearly within his reach, but Ha Ming Jin supposed that if they were to become rivals at that level—as kings—then his own ascension to emperor might be a lengthier path. All of that aside, Xu Liang’s greatest weakness was his love for the Song family. As long as that detriment remained exposed, like an untended wound, Ha Ming Jin would continue to take advantage—to prod until it festered and his opponent had sufficiently been weakened by his suffering.

  On that, Ha Ming Jin and Han Quan were in agreement. Han Quan had long criticized the Song privately, through letters that Ha Ming Jin would surely have used against the geomancer, had he delayed his defection for much longer.

  “I’d begun to think you were having a change of heart, Master Han Quan,” Ha Ming Jin said when the guards brought the elder to the proper distance.

  Han Quan took note of the guards stepping back to leave him isolated in the scope of Ha Ming Jin’s view and interest. It might not have been isolated enough for the old man’s tastes, but it was as private as their conversation was going to be for the time present. Ha Ming Jin had urgent affairs to attend to, such as the reinforcements from the Imperial City. They had arrived not but days ago at Fa Leng, and they had already retaken the province’s northernmost gate. Reports stated that the forces were led by General Tian Qi. Finally, Xun had earned proper attention from the Imperial City, though the presence of such a veteran would make advance all the more difficult.

  “Governor Ha Ming Jin,” Han Quan eventually greeted, bowing low. “I am grateful for being received into the boundaries of Xun.”

  Ha Ming Jin acknowledged the statement, but was more interested in the bag he noticed over the old man’s shoulder. “What have you brought with you?”

  Han Quan hesitated on his rise. Perhaps he was having second thoughts about their agreement, now that he was faced with the demand for payment. Or perhaps he did not have payment.

  Ha Ming Jin fel
t his brow begin the rise in anticipation of disappointment.

  That was when Han Quan placed his bag upon the floor. He reached into it with two hands, and extracted a curious looking rock. “I have the agreed upon payment,” he claimed.

  Ha Ming Jin’s expression transformed into a smile of curiosity while he studied the oblong item. It held the texture of a polished stone. The color was predominantly a dull golden tone with striations of brown and black. It was large enough to seem that it could almost not be held without two hands, except that the elder managed to balance it in only one.

  Could it actually have been a dragon’s egg? The smile drifted from Ha Ming Jin’s face as it began to occur to him that such a prize would require many years to develop into something of use to his present ambitions.

  Han Quan must have detected that, for he formed a cunning smile of his own, and said, “The scent of this will draw a larger beast.”

  Ha Ming Jin began to feel impressed with the idea, until he realized fully what it could mean. He stood swiftly from his seat, fighting the urge to rush across to the elder and demand an explanation for the betrayal his comment alluded to. “Do you think that we did not hear of the crisis in the Imperial City? Take that from here, at once!”

  Thinking better of his command to someone who had clearly come to take advantage of Xun, Ha Ming Jin set the task upon the guards instead. He would have the egg taken out to sea and cast toward the maelstrom by catapult. Han Quan would be arrested.

  The mystic grinned. He swiftly gestured with his free hand and drew particles of dust from the air and floor.

  “Stop him!” Ha Ming Jin commanded urgently.