Sacrifice (4 page)

Skybright was better prepared when Stone pulled her through the frigid lake this time. She remained still when he placed his mouth over hers once more, giving her the precious air that she needed, keeping calm by thinking of the morning rituals she used to perform with Zhen Ni: arranging her thick black hair into elaborate loops, threading jade and rubies into them. She
had
to stay calm, lest Stone judge that she was too panicked and felt obliged to make her literally forget where she was by kissing her again.

To her dismay, her thoughts ran to Kai Sen, and she remembered how it felt when his arms were wound about her waist, the way his dark brown eyes seemed brighter whenever he leaned over to seek a kiss, as if the anticipation of it lit him from within.

The hot sting of tears threatened beneath her closed lids, and Skybright willed her mind to be a blank void, blaming the tightness in her chest on the cold water that swirled against them.

They emerged on the muddied banks of the tranquil lake, the same one they had been peering down upon before they leaped into its depths. She quickly untangled herself from Stone’s hold, and he released her without a word. Incredibly, she was dry down to the hair on her head. Stone had some foresight this time.

“Thank you,” she muttered with reluctance.

“I am better prepared now that I know what to expect when traveling with you. What was your impression of the underworld?”

“I don’t believe that Ye Guai likes you.” she replied, not answering his question. She needed time to mull over what she had witnessed—mull over where she had been.

“He does not need to like me,” Stone said. “He simply needs to obey.”

“Like you obey?” she asked. “I had thought you were immortal—all powerful. Why must you listen to the gods?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Because I am not a god. My powers were granted by them, as was my immortality.”

Skybright wrapped her arms around herself but couldn’t suppress the tremor that ran through her. Even though she was not wet, the iciness of the lake seemed to linger, having burrowed its way to her bones. “Am I immortal too now, as part serpent demon?”

“I believe you are, Skybright,” Stone replied. “As your mother had been.”

“But you think she is dead.”

“Only the gods can never die,” he said. “We may live long, but we can still suffer an accident or be slain.”

Had her mother been murdered then, decapitated, or set on fire, like Skybright had seen the monks do to countless other demons? “Even you can be killed?” she asked.

He paused, then threw his head back and laughed. “Anyone who had ever been foolish enough to try never lived to tell the tale.”

Stone manifested a coat with a flick of his fingers and proffered it. Zhen Ni would love this trick of his; Skybright could imagine her mistress demanding that Stone conjure all sorts of ridiculous and extravagant things. Her merriment quickly withered. No, Zhen Ni was no longer
her mistress
. That was another life—her mortal life. She pulled the richly brocaded jacket over her shoulders and buttoned the front with stiff fingers. The collar was lined in ermine, warming her neck.

“I forget that your body requires sustenance. Half the day is gone and you have not eaten.” Stone spoke words under his breath and made a slashing motion with his arm. “Come. Let us dine somewhere nice.” He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to grasp it, not knowing what to expect when she stepped through the portal.

Kai Sen

“Again,” Abbot Wu commanded.

He stood before Kai Sen, swathed in a crimson robe, gripping his tall walnut staff in one hand. The sun had barely risen over Tian Kuan Mountain, and the abbot was training him in a small courtyard located behind his private study. It was near the end of the twelfth moon, but despite the chill, Kai Sen wore a sleeveless tunic tied at the waist over loose trousers; the bite in the morning air helped him to focus.

He chanted the spell Abbot Wu had taught him, centering himself as he did so, gathering the fire element that suffused this mortal world, radiating from the underworld and heavens, then back again. These elements resonated all around them, unfelt by the majority of people. Kai Sen had to be taught to sense these energies, trained to harness them. He drew a deep breath and pulled, tugging threads of fire element to him, and a small blue flame flickered within his curved palms.

“Well done,” Abbot Wu murmured. “Hellfire cannot harm mortals but can kill creatures of the underworld and the undead—everything we have warred against.”

Kai Sen felt no heat, only a slickness against his skin as the ball of flame jittered in his hands. After three months of intense training, the abbot had finally taught him the most powerful weapon he could wield against the creatures of hell.

“Pull more threads,” Abbot Wu said. “Make it grow.”

Kai Sen concentrated, casting his senses wide, drawing more strongly on the fire element spiraling in the air around him, pouring its power into his palms. The flame vibrated and grew, pulsing from apple-sized to that of a large watermelon.

“Impressive,” the abbot said. “You’re a quick learner, and your gift of clairvoyance makes you an especially strong magic user.”

But Kai Sen barely heard Abbot Wu, his voice like a mosquito buzzing in the distance. Sweat slid down the back of his neck, and his hairline dampened as he opened himself more, tugging greedily. The hellfire he held undulated, expanding to the size of a giant gourd, so large that it obscured the abbot’s face.

Grinning with triumph, he extended his arms, admiring his work, suffused in the power of the element rushing through him until Abbot Wu smacked his shoulder hard with his staff. Kai Sen lost hold of everything, and the blue flame winked out of existence.

“Humph,” Abbot Wu said. “It doesn’t matter how powerful you are if your focus can be so easily broken.”

The man spoke in an even tone, almost casually, but Kai Sen caught something else in his words. There was an edge to them; was it surprise or … wariness? His mentor had not expected Kai Sen to meet his challenge.

He bowed his head. “Yes, Abbot Wu.”

“That’s enough for today,” the abbot said. “You are learning more quickly than I thought possible. When I was taught, it took me well over half a year to conjure a small flame.”

The abbot had chosen Kai Sen as his successor—the next in line to rule the monastery and uphold the covenant. It was an agreement between the mortals and the gods, offering countless monks’ lives up in a vicious battle with the underworld, sealed with an innocent life given as sacrifice to close hell’s breach. Kai Sen had agreed, blatantly lying to Abbot Wu, the closest thing he ever had to a father figure, so that he could learn all of his secrets and break the covenant.

Morning light filtered through the tall cypress tree in the intimate courtyard, and an image of Skybright by the creek, sunlight dappling her cheek and caressing her bare arms filled his mind.
She
had been the sacrifice this time. This twisted covenant would end with her.

His mentor was already sliding the study’s paneled door back when Kai Sen stopped him with a question, “We’ve discussed the five core elements that can grant us magic in this world, Abbot Wu. But which one allows us to create portals?”

Standing beneath the shade of the eaves, the older man’s eyes were hooded.

Kai Sen went on, undeterred. “I would guess the earth element?” He needed to know. If he couldn’t create portals, he could never find Skybright.

“Portals utilize earth, wood, metal, and water, as you must bend all these elements to your will to form a rent,” the abbot replied in his rich voice. “To allow you to step from one place into another.”

“Four elements at once?” Kai Sen asked.

“Many of the more advanced magic require the use of multiple elements,” the abbot explained, easing the door panel back fully. “You won’t be learning how to create a portal for some time. It is much too advanced. I couldn’t conjure them until after over three years of training.”

Kai Sen inclined his head once more, hiding his face. The longer he couldn’t create portals, the longer the abbot could keep him leashed.

“I’m meeting with a visiting scholar in the main library,” Abbot Wu said. “Will you walk with me?”

“I’d like to stay a while longer to practice, if I may?” Kai Sen asked. “It is tranquil here.”

“You are doing well, Kai Sen. A true prodigy.” The abbot waved his hand with a flourish, the wide sleeve of his robe billowing. “Stay as long as you need.”

Kai Sen remained in the empty courtyard, listening for the abbot’s retreating footsteps. Birds sang overhead, chattering excitedly in morning greeting. Beyond the curved rooftops, his brother monks were emerging in the main courtyard; Kai Sen could hear their low voices and an occasional whoop of laughter before they settled down to practice their forms. After he was certain Abbot Wu had gone, he too entered the private study with quick, silent steps.

A long blackwood table was set near the paneled doors so the abbot could enjoy the courtyard view on a pleasant day. The rectangular chamber was lined with shelves against three walls, stacked full of books above with scrolls stored in wide drawers and cubbies beneath. Kai Sen had taken tomes and scrolls from the abbot’s library before without permission, to study text and spells on his own, in subjects the abbot would have considered too advanced or powerful for Kai Sen so early in his training.

But the magic came easily to him, like quenching thirst with a long drink of water. Once Abbot Wu helped his inner eye to see, Kai Sen always felt nature’s elements around him, perceived the tug of their power. This connection and awareness had become a natural part of his being. He glanced over the crowded shelves, organized by subject, letting his instincts guide him. Wandering over to the far corner of the study, his fingers grazed over thick texts. Dust particles swirled in the dim morning light, and his senses were filled with the musty scent of ancient pages.

Kai Sen’s fingertips tingled when they ran across a thin book bound in red leather. Deftly, he popped it from the shelf. Its cover was worn, with a simple title that might have been gilded in gold once but had long since lost its luster:
Transitions
. He slipped it into the leather pouch at his waist without bothering to glance at the pages inside.

He knew this book was what he had been looking for. As soon as he could master how to create portals, he could begin his search for Skybright.

Zhen Ni

Rose, Zhen Ni’s head handmaid, arrived even earlier than her usual time in the morning.

“It’s barely past dawn!” Zhen Ni moaned into a brocaded cushion as the young handmaid drew open the large lattice windows in her bedchamber. “Even the birds are still asleep!”

As if to be contrary, a bird trilled a long song in the courtyard beyond her quarters. Zhen Ni moaned again. “Wretched bird,” she said in a muffled voice.

“I apologize, mistress, but your mother asked that I prepare you early today.” Rose extended a hand, offering to help Zhen Ni from the tall platform bed. The girl was a few years younger—sweet and earnest, a hard worker—but not someone Zhen Ni could tell secrets to or have adventures with, not someone she considered as close as a sister.