Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning (22 page)

I can't.

So I stand there, half staring at the floor and half
at him.

“I saw you training
today,” he notes through a suspiciously uncomfortable swallow.
Isn't he meant to be a cold-hearted Royal Army sorcerer? Isn't he
meant to flow around emotion like water around stone?

I don't reply.

“You're not
. . . that bad. It'll just take some time. The fan dance
requires fluid movement, or at least from the female sorcerer.
You'll get used to it.”

Is he
. . . trying to make me feel better?
Is he encouraging me?

Why? So he can manipulate me more? Does he want me to
trust him, just so it's easier for him?

I let my arms drop
and though I'm not meant to, I stare at him with a challenging look
in my gaze
. “What do you
want?”

He looks taken aback.

“Did Garl tell you to
be my friend so I can become more pliable? Well tell him his
threats are sufficient. I won't dare disappoint him. He doesn't
need you to try to get me on side.”

“Ah . . .
what?” Yang shakes his head, looking genuinely confused.

“Tell General Garl, I
won't dare disobey him,” I step forward, right into Yang, grabbing
the door beside him and leaning forward. My fingers are so tight
around the metal, and my anger so hot, I could easily burn right
through it.

Though Yang starts shifting back, he doesn't actually
step back.

So, still right up close to him, I look into his eyes
with all the determination I can muster.

“I'll do what he
says. I'll train, and I'll fight his little battles. But don't you
dare think I'll ever be truly loyal. I'll go through the motions,
but you won't change my heart. I will do whatever I can to save
Castor and my village. I don't care about my life,” I say with a
huff, “and you can tell Garl I can endure anything he throws at me.
So are we done here?” I ask as I shift the door forward, moving it
as close to Yang as I can without actually slamming it into
him.

He is standing right in the doorway, after all.

At first he opens his mouth, his usually handsome
face contorted with what looks like genuine confusion. Then he
stops and he looks at me.

I could go toe-to-toe with him, I really could.

My stomach clenches for some reason, and I step back,
still locking my hand on the door though.

“What did he say to
you? No one is going to threaten Castor, or your village; we're not
monsters.”

I start smiling, and it isn't a happy move; it's
disbelieving. Can this guy really think I'm that stupid?

“I'm done speaking to
you,” I say as I push away from the door and turn from
him.

It's so childish, but it's the only thing I can do. I
can't attack him, and god knows I can't shout at him—other soldiers
would hear, and my disobedience would soon make it back to
Garl.

So I just turn, pretending he isn't there.

. . .
.

He stands for a while. Then, without a word, he
closes the door and I hear it being bolted behind him.

I press my lips together and stare at the wall.
Slowly but surely my eyes fill with tears. I try to hold them back,
pressing my lips together all the tighter, but it won't work.

I hate that I'm getting emotional. More than that,
that it was the arrogant Captain Yang that unsettled me.

I can't fight it. So eventually I give in and flop on
my bed.

I wallow.

Yet despite how horrible it feels to be trapped and
at the mercy of the treacherous Garl, I don't stay defeated for
long.

When I'm ready, I stand back up, I pick up my fan,
and I train.

Captain Yang

I walk away from Yin completely confused.

Worse than that, unsettled. After my long, thoughtful
walk last night, I spent the majority of today engaging in powerful
emotional cleansing techniques. I drew on my training, and for a
while there, I honestly thought it had worked.

. . .
.

Then I open the door to Yin standing around in a
singlet, and I start stuttering like a child.

Just when I pull myself together, she pulls me apart
again.

Why was she so afraid? What did Garl tell her?

If you’d asked me, I would have told you there wasn't
much in the Kingdom that could control Yin's anger.

I was clearly wrong.
I saw how withdrawn she looked. Her bitter words only underlined
how
. . . trapped she
appeared.

That didn't stop her from grabbing the door and
trying to close it on me, though.

. . .
.

With a careful breath, I puff my cheeks out and start
to walk faster.

She stood right before me, staring up with as much
concentrated force as she could muster.

. . .
I didn't stand
back. I stared right down at her like a man facing a
volcano.

It felt
. . . good.

“Control yourself,” I
mutter quickly, making sure my words don't carry, “you've got a job
to do.”

Unconsciously I start pumping my left hand back and
forth. It's something I only ever do when I feel out of control. A
habit I thought I’d rid myself of over the years, but one that had
reared its head in the past few days.

Ever since meeting the indomitable Yin.

Just thinking about her again makes me pump my hand
all the harder.

Though it sounds suicidal, I want to turn around and
go back to her room. I want to stand there and explain to her that
no one is going to threaten Castor or her village. She must be
mistaken.

. . .
.

I hope.

I've known Garl for years, and in all those years
he's always shown himself to be competent, loyal, and
upstanding.

However, he's also proved himself to be
uncompromising. It's a required trait of a Royal General. He does
not back down.

If he wants something, and deems a goal to be in the
best interest of the Kingdom and the Royal Family, then he goes
after it.

. . .
.

I latch a hand to my jaw and push my fingers hard
into my chin as I manipulate it back and forth.

I concede that Garl may have threatened her—he may
have underlined how important serving the Royal Family is.

But he would never actually murder a
citizen—especially not someone as valuable as Castor—just to prove
a point. The very thought of burning down a village of loyal
citizens is pure and simple madness.

No, Yin must be confused. She must have taken Garl's
warning to mean more than he intended.

As I convince myself of that fact, a single flame of
doubt ignites in my mind.

Everything is
different now Mara is the Savior. The stakes have changed. Never
has this
kingdom faced a task more
important.

The end of the ages is upon us all, and the Savior
alone has the power to save us. Though the Royal Army has fought
many important wars over the course of Garl's illustrious career,
he would not have faced anything akin to what he does now.

Responsibility has a way of changing a man, forcing
him to consider options he would usually turn from.

With a dry mouth, I reach my room. Quietly I open the
door, and quietly I close it behind myself.

For the first time in years, I feel like screaming at
the walls.

This situation is too much. There are too many
variables, too many unknowns.

Sitting in the middle of it is something I shouldn't
be allowing to distract me—Yin. The simple girl from the mountains.
The not so simple student of Castorious Barr, the most legendary
warrior in the past century.

Pressing my fingers into my eyes, it takes a long
time to walk away from the door.

I should get some rest, I know that—it's been a long
day, and tomorrow promises to be even longer. For tomorrow Princess
Mara will be coming to the barracks to train.

I can’t even face my bed though.

I want this ordeal to be over so my life can return
to normal. It's an empty wish, though. For now until the last day
of the age, I will be at Princess Mara's side, helping to save the
whole damn world.

Wincing, I start to pull my armor off.

I'm aching, even though I haven't trained at all
today. It feels as though I've stood in front of a runaway cart.
Maybe I have—the image of Yin facing me and staring fire into my
eyes will probably be with me for life.

In fact, as I dress for bed and lie down, that image
is all I see as sleep meets me.

It won't be the last time I fall asleep thinking of
her.

Yin

I wake early in the morning, and begin training
again. As I do, waving my arms as gracefully as I can, I try to be
more fluid, as Yang put it. Though I hate to be taking the advice
of that man, I know what's at stake here.

. . .
.

Plus, in the absence of Castor, I need to keep
training. I might not be able to do a fan dance on the final day of
the age, but mastering it could give me an edge. I could learn
something important.

It's with that attitude I keep training.

It's also with that determination that I keep pushing
against the magical barrier in my room.

The more I practice, the easier it becomes to call on
my magic. Though I still can't conjure up a proper blast, I can at
least set sparks crackling over my hands.

I can also send those sparks into the fan.

That, right there, may be the opportunity I've been
waiting for.

If the fan can hold my magic, conceivably I could use
it to escape. All I would have to do is sit for a few hours,
pumping the little power I can conjure into the channels over the
fan, then use the thing to blow the door up.

I can't risk doing it yet—Garl's warning is still
ringing in my ears—but it's still an advantage.

I will gather my opportunities until I have enough to
defeat him.

Soon enough I hear a knock on my door, and I wait for
the thing to swing open.

Though my heart skips a few beats as I wonder if it's
Yang, it isn't.

Mae stands there, dressed impeccably as always.

I've tried a little
harder to comb my hair back, and though I'm proud of what I've
achieved, Mae snorts
. “You will never be
beautiful, but the least you can do is try to be neat,” she snaps
as she stalks over and straightens my sleeve. Then she mutters
something unkind as she tugs my hair into submission.

I stand there and stare out of the open door,
shooting a challenging glare at the amused guard outside.

When Mae is finished she snaps at me to bring my fan,
and I follow her back into the square.

Though I've been at the Royal Barracks for several
days now, I've barely seen the place. I get shepherded from my room
to the square, then back again. The routine doesn't change.

Today as I walk out into the brisk morning air, I
notice there are more soldiers standing around than usual.

Perhaps word has gotten around at how inept I am, and
they've all come to see.

Before I can conclude that, however, I note that they
seem different somehow. They aren't wearing the same gold and red
armor.

“What's going on?” I
ask, forgetting my place.

“Though it is none of
your business, we will be honored today by a visit from Princess
Mara.”

“Oh,” I mutter as I
walk on by, staring at the extra guards but no longer thinking
anything of it.

“Now,” Mae gestures
down the steps into the square, “go and take up
position.”

Before she can add some insult, she turns around as a
guard hurries up to her.

I watch them both as I trundle down into the
square.

The guard talks
hurriedly, and before I know it, Mae starts walking away with him.
When I move
to follow, she snaps at me to
“stay,” as if I'm little more than an obedient dog.

Sighing, I tuck my fan under my arm.

The morning is a chilly one, and with one look up to
the clouds, I see they're laden with rain. Billowing and navy blue,
it looks as if it will be heavy rain, too.

As a chill wind picks up through the yard, I start to
swing my arms, the boredom setting in.

I look around and stare at the guards amassing over
on the other side of the square.

Why could one person need so many people to look
after her? I know the Princess is meant to be important, but it
looks as if there's a small army over there.

Are they worried she's going to trip over and bump
her perfect little chin? Or maybe they think she'll get worried if
she doesn't see at least 1000 men at her beck and call.

I hate royalty. I
hate the idea of it. Your blood doesn't make you better than anyone
else. Nor does it give you the right to make others bleed on your
behalf. That's what the Royal Family does. They send soldiers off
to war to fight on their behalf, demanding their subjects sacrifice
their lives so
. . . what? The
Royal Family can amass more wealth?

Castor has always
told me to distrust them. He's told me on numerous occasions they
are nothing more than
leeches living off
the women and men of the land.

Crossing my arms as I stare at the guards, I sigh
loudly.

Then again.

Time goes on, and Mae doesn't return. When I ask one
of my own guards whether I can go back to my room, he just snaps at
me to shut up and wait.