Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning (23 page)

So I do.

Then it starts to rain.

Heavily.

In fact, it's as if the heavens open up and release a
sea upon the earth.

I watch my guards shelter further under the awning
that covers the steps and leads down to the square.

I, however, stand there, allowing myself to get
sopping wet.

The rain soaks through my light clothes in
seconds.

I don't shiver though, nor do I move to wipe the
rivulets from my cheeks and chin.

I just let it rain.

It rains so damn heavily I feel like I'm in my own
world, cut off from all those guards and soldiers by a veil of
continuously falling water.

Tipping my head back, I smile as I let the water
drive into my cheeks and lips.

It's invigorating.

The smell of it fills my nostrils, and the constant
bite of the driving droplets makes my skin tingle.

Staring up at the
downpour, the clouds rolling and boiling like smoke from a fire, I
laugh, letting my head
drop
forward.

I watch the water spread out below me, darting
towards the cracks in the stone as it moves back towards the
earth.

It moves so quickly, so efficiently.

It always takes the shortest path. No flourish, just
flow.

My lips press together as I feel the fan in my hand
all of a sudden.

Become fluid like water—that's what they've been
telling me.

So I watch the water.

I see just how easily it moves around things.

But it isn't graceful—it doesn't prance around like a
lady with a fan. It flows, never stopping, constantly moving beyond
and around and through.

It doesn't follow any set of prescribed movements—it
reacts to each obstacle, finding a new way to flow around it as it
does.

There's no dance—there's just constant, deliberate
movement.

As I stare, I understand.

Without being told, I start to train.

I don't care that no one has told me to start, and
nor do I care that I have an audience.

I just move.

It's up to me to draw what lessons from nature I can,
and I mustn't ignore this one.

I might be trapped, but that does not mean I can’t
learn.

As I start to move, I push all distraction from my
mind. The whole world could be looking at me, but it wouldn't
matter. All that matters is capturing the moment before it slips
away.

I focus all my attention on my Arak device. Though
you are taught as a sorcerer to conjure magic seamlessly—connecting
so much to your bracelet that it feels indistinguishable from your
own arm—now I concentrate on it. I link to the spirit of magic
trapped within the metal, and I invite it into my every
movement.

I don't try to dance. Mae is right—I'm never going to
be elegant nor graceful. My body isn’t built for it. It is,
however, built for power.

I let my magic build, the force moving with the fan
as I furl and unfurl it.

I don’t follow
any distinct set of movements. Yet from the
scrolls I read last night, I know the fan dance requires a
proscribed set of steps.

Instead
I take to heart the underlying lesson. Move with
fluidity, not force.

Though I’ve never bought into all the traditions that
surround gender, I know force is reserved for a male sorcerer,
whilst a woman is meant to be more receptive and supportive. This
entire fan dance is built around that duality.

But underneath that, is a lesson.

I know how to be forceful, but now, as I attune to
the water washing around me, I understand flow.

I’ll need to learn both if I want to defeat the
Night.

At first I'm awkward, just jumping and leaping about
like a child at play.

I should feel foolish—with so many potential
onlookers, I should stop right now.

I don't.

Because I don't care.

Sparks start to play along my fan, and I can feel how
much magic it's absorbing. But the power doesn’t burst out. It
builds and builds and builds.

I'm calling upon the force within, but it is not
dancing around me—it's concentrating, virtually unseen. For the
first time in my life, I can practice without being distracted by
the white-hot brilliance of my magic. The distraction of its
hissing, crackling, sparking power.

The rain drives around me as thick as a watery
shroud.

Perhaps it hides my display from everyone else, maybe
it doesn't.

But again, I don't care.

In fact, I keep moving. I won't stop until someone
tells me to.

I might be trapped, but from now on, it will be on my
terms.

Captain Yang

As soon as the rain starts driving down, I know it's
going to be a trying day.

Which is strange—usually rain lifts me up.

Not today.

Today, I feel unsettled.

Which is a problem, because Princess Mara is about to
arrive.

I pace back and forth in front of Garl's office,
waiting for him.

The preparations for today have to be perfect. The
Queen's own daughter will be practicing, and I can’t afford to have
anything go wrong.

I try to tell myself everything will be fine, but my
mantra is a hollow one.

There are so many variables at play. Members of the
Royal Family are hardly ever taken out of the palace, and usually
only when it is strictly necessary. Their safety is the most
important factor in the entire Kingdom.

Now I am facing the harrowing possibility that for
the foreseeable future Princess Mara will travel to and train at
the Royal Barracks.

All because Castor convinced her to.

As soon as I think about that man, I shake my
head.

I know he's up to something. Maybe he wants to see
his apprentice, Yin, or maybe it's something else.

But his loyalty is not what everyone else assumes it
to be.

It is a show.

As Garl's door opens and the man heads out with a
nod, I return it and seriously wonder whether I should share my
reservations about Castor.

But I already have, and no matter what I say, nor how
emphatically I say it, Garl will not believe Castor is a
threat.

To Garl and every other soldier in the Kingdom,
Castor is a hero.

A living legend.

“Yang, I trust all
the necessary preparations have been made,” Garl asks as he
straightens his helmet underneath his arm.

I nod low, trying not
to pump my left hand as I do
. “Everything
is ready, sir. Though I must point out that it is currently
raining.”

“We can use as many
Royal Army sorcerers as it will take to keep dry,” Garl says
dismissively.

Briefly, I'd wondered whether he would say it didn't
matter—that the Princess could just train in the rain, because
she's the Savior, and will face much worse.

I'm wrong. Garl will use his best men to ensure not a
droplet of water strikes her.

I smile. Or I try to. My nerves are a hard, twisting
knot in my gut.

A knot I try to untie as we walk through the wide
corridors and out into the square.

“Did you manage to
secure a female sorcerer?” I ask Garl as we walk, “I heard last
night that Castor requested one.”

“Yes, Mae will
suffice,” Garl says as he marches forward.

I open my mouth to point out Mae would be busy
training Yin, but something holds me back.

That something is Yin's reaction from last night. How
she'd withdrawn at the mere mention of Garl's name.

Not for the first time, I wonder exactly what he said
to her.

I hold my tongue.

We reach the square. Before we do, I feel the
rain.

I feel it as if I'm standing right underneath it,
opening my arms to its power.

I touch, smell, and taste it.

Eventually we walk out and I see it.

The clouds are a rolling, grey mess above. They send
down a ferocious downpour that covers the square in drenching
sheets of rain. The square itself is filled with puddles, water
tracking around it, rushing into the gutters that will lead it
outside onto the street, and eventually down to the river.

The smell that meets me as I breathe in deeply is
truly invigorating.

It doesn't last.

Drawing my head down from staring at the clouds, I
see Mae march up to us. When she reaches the General, she dips down
low in a graceful bow.

“General, I am
honored,” she says.

“I trust you have
been informed how important this task will be,” Garl asks as his
chest puffs out pompously.

No, not pompously, loyally. I have no idea where that
thought came from, and I chastise myself for even daring to think
it.

“I have,” Mae looks a
little surprised as she swallows heavily, but soon enough she
straightens her back regally, “and I will not disappoint
you.”

“I trust you won't,”
Garl says. He gestures forward, and we all begin to
walk.

I watch Mae's shoulders tense at Garl's words.
Perhaps she found his statement threatening, but I know he's
underlining how important this task is.

So unbelievably important.

As we walk, and tension winds itself harder and
faster around my gut, I can't help but stare at the rain. With my
head twisted to the side, I watch those droplets fall in a storm of
motion.

I see something moving amongst them. No, at first I
feel it.

As we get closer, I realize it's a person.

When Mae takes a sharp breath, I realize who that
person is.

Yin.

Of course. It couldn't possibly be anyone else.

She seems completely oblivious to the fact she's
drawn an audience. And quite an audience she has drawn.

Not only are her guards watching her, but several
other soldiers have come out from nearby rooms as well.

Now Garl draws to a halt under the awning, inclining
his head down as he stares at her dancing in the rain.

No. She isn't dancing. There's no wild abandon about
her moves. Nor is there any great elegance or grace.

What there is, is deliberate, directed force.

It's the most arresting sight I've ever seen.

It takes me too long to realize she has her fan in
her hand.

“I thought I was told
she is falling behind in training with the fan?” Garl notes as he
does not turn his head from her.

His expression is mostly hidden from me.

Mostly.

I can see just
a
slice of his left eye and the corner of
his lips. The effect they have is a chilling one.

No, I chide myself immediately. It's the angle.

“I . . .
she was,” Mae stutters quickly. “She has just . . .
benefited from my training. I set her work, gave her books to
read.”

Garl nods. He doesn't say anything more. He continues
to stare.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Then,
unable to stop myself, my gaze is drawn back to her.

I can't look away.

I can tell she knows we're looking at her—I'm sure
she's aware of the crowd she's drawn. She doesn't care, though.

My life is dictated by tradition. Hers, it seems, by
choice.

As I think that, I shake my head.

I draw myself back to earth, my awareness pulling
away from her dancing, rain-covered form.

That's when I see her fan glowing red-hot with
magic.

Ordinarily fans are made to store magic as long as
they can. They concentrate it, enabling one to produce devastating
blows.

However, like all magical weaponry, they can't hold
that magic forever.

They have a limit. Yin's fan is rapidly reaching
its.

I jump forward, out into the rain.

I don't think, I act, driven on, not by my mind, but
by something else.

She turns, halfway through a powerful, sweeping turn,
and sees me. Her hair is plastered over her face, water soaking
every centimeter of her.

Where her gaze was once focused, mesmerized even, now
her eyes open in surprise, water cascading over her lips as she
jerks them apart.

I plunge forward.

She takes it as an attack, darting back.

“Stay still,” I
command, but my voice is drowned out by the pounding force of the
rain. As it slams against the cobbles of the square, it creates a
din that fills the air.

Usually I can force my voice through any
storm—drawing on the power of magic within.

Today, I can't.

I jump towards her again, but she darts back, her
eyes now narrowing in a snap.

I've fought her once before, and that was during the
driving rain too.

But she wasn't prepared for me then, and she is
now.

She shifts back, watching me warily.

“I'm not attacking
you,” I snap, “you need to stay still and let me—”

She darts away.

As she does, she lets the fan swing close to her
chest. With the amount of energy charged within in, one wrong move
and she could slice through her own torso.

I put a hand out, my
fingers spreading wide in desperation, the rain striking them and
thumping hard against my armor and helmet
. “Please, stay still.”

Though my plea is once more drained out by the rain,
I watch her stop.

Maybe she picks up on the desperate look in my eyes,
but she no longer moves back. In fact, she stands there,
confused.

Then she lets the fan drop towards her side as she
takes an unsure step towards me.

I watch a lick of brilliant white magical flame start
to leap from the fan towards her body.

I move faster than I ever have before. I flow forward
like water let out from a dam.