Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning (17 page)

For my entire life, Castor has been trying to instill
discipline in me. With every training session, he always emphasized
I must learn to control myself. From fear to instinct, I must learn
to work with all my emotions in complete harmony.

Become too frightened, and you'll cower until someone
strikes their final blow. Become too relaxed, however, and your
senses will become too dull for the fight.

No. You can neither embrace nor fully reject fear.
You must find your balance.

Find your balance.

That's Castor's motto, and it's one that springs to
mind now.

I can't all-out attack for the fear I’ll waste my
magic, allowing myself to become tired without furthering the
battle.

Plus, I will distract myself if I just attack
randomly, trying to strike it lucky.

That, after all, is what I did to Mae this morning. I
allowed her to attack and attack, using her own ferocity to
distract her from my spell.

That's what these mirage sorcerers are trying to do
to me now, I'm sure of it.

I won’t fall for their trap.

Instead I contain myself, and conserve my energy for
dodging.

I no longer flip around wildly; I only jump back when
I feel an impending attack.

Find your balance.

Just as I repeat that, I narrowly miss a kick that's
aimed right at my head. The leg and foot, covered in black fabric,
come snaking out of the air as if they've been drawn their by the
hand of god.

I push back, the force of the kick blowing my hair
over my forehead.

I shift to the side as a punch comes rocketing from
my side.

I dodge.

Then I dodge again as another punch sails close to my
gut.

I'm still aware of my audience. In fact, though I can
hardly stop, turn, and count, I swear it's getting bigger with
every second.

Worse than that, however, I recognize one of the
soldiers. The man in the heavy black armor from last night—the
General. He's standing close to the open door I was flung
through.

I can't pause to register his expression, but I can
bet it isn't nice.

Find your balance.

If Castor were here, that's all he would say. Then
again, if Castor were here, these two mirage sorcerers would have
been dealt with long ago.

Castor has always had uncanny senses; he knows what
you're going to do well before you do it. He can read your body
before your own mind can. Over the years he's tried to instill this
skill in me, but I am a poor student. Ordinary magic I can
understand, but the magic of the mind is still a mystery to me.

The two sorcerers heat up their attacks, and they
kick, punch, and leap.

Somehow I keep on my toes and dodge though. Using
every acrobatic skill Castor taught me, I stay out of their
way.

Barely.

I'm using every skill I know, and all my energy too.
I haven't even started to attack.

I just have to figure out where they are. If I can
find a target, then this fight will be over.

These mirage sorcerers might be powerful, but without
the ability to hide themselves, they're just men. Fair enough, if
they were equipped with blades, then this battle would be
distinctly harder. In fact, as I imagine that, I realize that's
likely what they're used for: assassins. Silent and virtually
undetectable. Though I want to believe no one would use them like
that, I don't have any faith in this Kingdom and its army. I've
seen how far they're willing to go—rounding up old men and drafting
them without a care.

Still, right now these mirage sorcerers don't have
blades. They are, no doubt, just a test. A vicious one, but a test
nonetheless.

However, unlike Castor, I'm pretty sure they're
willing to hurt me, just not kill me yet.

I skip to the side as a hand gropes out and latches
onto my wrist. It pulls me forward just as a knee appears out of
nowhere. I jerk back, but can't get free. The knee slams into my
nose, blood cascading out in an arc.

I don't even bother screaming.

I just redouble my efforts to locate them.

I fought Mae, I can fight these invisible men.

If I find my balance.

Though I've been running and dodging for a solid 10
minutes, I am not done.

In fact, it's time to get started.

Just as I feel a foot push towards my head, I lean
right into it. I let it kick me.

Right across the face. My head jerks back from the
move, blood escaping over my lips and chin.

That's not me giving up though. It's me figuring out
just how hard these guys are willing to fight.

The answer my ringing head gives me, is very hard.
Unlike Mae, they don't hesitate. If I leave them an opening, they
snap in and take it with criminal ease.

So, if they aren't going to hesitate, it means I need
to find some other way to fight them.

While the stones below me are strong, they are still
well worn, and there’s dust caked between them. No doubt the dust
produced by countless soldiers training for countless years, their
heavy armored boots grating across the cobbles and smoothing them
down.

Well, right now, I realize I can use that dust. There
may be no weapons to speak of, nor any objects to hide behind. But
I know you're only as good as the opportunities you can find.

I find the dust.

Experimentally, I jump up, and land, striking the
ground with all my might.

Sure enough, the dust erupts up in a small cloud.

Almost immediately the two sorcerers attack, but I
dodge easily. It doesn't matter that my face is covered in blood
and my limbs are starting to fatigue from constant activity; I push
past that.

Once more, I jump up and slam down, this time forcing
magic to shoot out at my move. It bursts from my knuckles as they
impact the stone, and I send it travelling deep into every groove
between the cobbles.

A hand appears behind me, and clutches at my throat.
I lean forward and roll, using my momentum to break free.

Then I do it once more. I leap up and land, forcing
magic to burst out into the cracks between the stones, unsettling
all the dust I can.

I don’t want to burn the dust—I want to set it
flying. That it does. In great clouds, it starts to billow around
me.

For the first time, I feel the mirage sorcerers
hesitate. They don’t throw themselves at me—they back off.

I take the opportunity. Summoning magic—as much as I
can—I beat the ground one last time. This time I send my power as
far out as it’ll go, commanding it to dig deep into the stones,
uprooting as much dust as it can find.

It erupts up in a great cloud.

A cloud that stretches for a good 20 meters around
me.

I don’t pause.

I push both my hands forward, plunging my burning
fingers into the fine rock dust.

I set it all on fire. I push my magic into the first
few particles, and watch it multiply and jump forth until the
entire dust cloud is alight.

Then I hear them, and see them. With two gasps, the
mirage sorcerers stumble back.

They’re both behind me.

I dip to the ground, roll, and jump towards the
men.

I see them both turning and trying to run. I don't
give them the chance.

Leaping into the air, I slam myself into the closest
one, bringing my body down in a great tackle. Without pause, I
twist around the falling man, using him as leverage, and flip
forward, collecting the other sorcerer right in the gut with a
powerful kick.

They both hit the ground with thumps.

They go to get up. I command my Arak bangle, forcing
magic to pump through my body. It races over me in a great wash of
white sparks.

The cloud of dust is still on fire, and sparks settle
all over my skin and hair. But they don’t burn me; they are me.
They’re borne of my magic, and they can’t hurt me.

The two mirage sorcerers, however, are a different
matter. Their black costumes smolder, and I watch them pat at their
arms and legs.

I don't move—I keep standing there with my arms
aflame with magic, only a meter away from them.

I go to step forward.

“Enough,” I hear
someone command in a rumbling tone.

Slowly I turn.

Through the crackling dust, I notice two sorcerers
leap down into the square. They both set about removing my flaming
dust cloud—chanting and waving their hands about it.

I mutter
a
, “ha,” and walk away.

Not towards the General that commanded me to stop,
but back in the direction of my room.

I'm done here. This test is over. I have no idea
whether I've passed and pleased my captors, and I don't care.

I can't deny, however, that I've learnt something.
Though it took me a while, I figured out how to fight mirage
sorcerers, and maybe that will be worth something to me one
day.

For now, however, it's time to return to my room.

I don't get the chance.

I notice the General
marching up to me, several large guards walking with him. These
soldiers are wearing armor I haven't seen before. It's black and
white, with dragons emblazoned across the front and back. The
dragons are not breathing fire and raining destruction down upon
hapless villagers though; they are swallowing their own
tails.

Though Castor never spoke much of our kingdom and its
capital, on occasion he mentioned how important symbolism is to the
army and the Royal Family. Every one of their traditions, he told
me, harks back to some symbol, some metaphor, some legend.

I can't tell what dragons swallowing their own tails
is meant to symbolize, but I can guess it’s important. Just as I
can guess these soldiers are too.

Though I feel like being surly and ignoring them, I
quickly find my path being blocked by other guards.

“General Garl wishes
to see you,” one of them says. As he speaks, I can see his eyes
staring out at me from under his helmet.

He looks fearful. Surprised. Impressed. Astonished
even.

Yet as I swivel my gaze to the General and his
special guards, I note they look completely composed. Well, the
guards do—the General has an odd and completely unsettling look in
his eyes.

“If you're about to
demand I join your army, don't bother. I'm never going to fight for
you,” I say before he can speak.

He narrows his
eyes
. “They tell me Castorious Barr
trained you. Is this true?”

I press my lips together and stop speaking.

“I see a little of
him in you. He always taught his pupils to adapt to their
environments,” Garl continues.

I don't say a word. It's one thing to taunt and
intimidate these arrogant soldiers, but it's another thing when
they question me about Castor.

I know I must keep my secret, and Castor's too. They
mustn't know I'm the Savior, and they can't guess that he's my
guardian.

So I stand there and hold my tongue.

“You have nothing to
say? My soldiers inform me you are usually brimming with inane
comebacks and language inappropriate for a woman. But now you are
mute?”

I cross my arms at
the phrase “
language inappropriate for a
woman,” but I don’t speak.

Garl looks me up and
down
. “You will either submit to
training, or you will be killed,” he suddenly says
flatly.

I blink back my surprise.

Though people have threatened me, this is the first
time someone has done so with something concrete. Death, to be
precise.

“I wager you believe
you are strong enough to take on a unit of my men. And perhaps you
are. But you are not nearly trained enough to take on these men,”
Garl opens his hands wide, indicating the soldiers in white and
black armor behind him. “Should I order it, they will kill you.
There will be no fanfare, no final warning. With nothing more than
a look from me, they will end you.”

I blink, breathing erratically.

“Do you understand
me?” Garl asks quietly.

I don't answer.

“Do you understand
me?” he screams, his voice so loud and brutal it makes me
shake.

I gasp.

He stares at me with nothing but concentrated
hatred.

I make the mistake of looking past him at his guards.
Not one of them registers any emotion at all. They barely look
human, in fact. They just appear to be men carved out of black and
white ice, their expressions colder than any I have seen
before.

“Do you understand
me?” Garl asks once more, his voice dropping so low I can barely
hear it.

I nod, my head jerking with the move.

“You will have no
preferential treatment; you don't deserve it. You will be treated
as a captive until you prove yourself to be something more.
Wherever you go, you will be shadowed by these men.”

I keep shaking, the fear rising through me.

I can't die. Not now, not here. Not when I have such
an important destiny before me.

. . .
.

I have to do what he says.

Or do I? Is he actually being honest? Would he really
have me killed?

Maybe he sees my indecision, because he takes a
menacing step closer. Despite the fact he's in thick, sturdy,
immaculate armor, and is accompanied by guards, I don't step
back.

I might be afraid, but I find my balance.

I stare up at him.

“My soldiers and I
are prepared to do whatever it takes to protect this kingdom and
our Royal Family. Anything.”

I hold my ground. I might be terrified on the inside,
but I don't let it show.

“You might not fear
for your life, but I'm sure your fear can stretch to others,” he
warns.