Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning (44 page)

. . .
.

But I can't tell him yet.

So I turn and I face the cold stream next to me. I
watch the water flow in and out, cascading around any rock or
branch in its path. So fluid, so unstoppable.

I'm drawn into that movement.

I close my eyes.

Reminded of the freedom I experienced during the fan
dance, the connection, the balance, I breathe deeply. Then again,
then again.

When I
open my eyes, I stare up at the horizon and the
glowing dawn with a new sense of possibility.

There may be hardships on the horizon, but there'll
be surprises too. Opportunities.

Endure, then fight.

Endure then fight.

That is what I will do. Whatever uncertainty is
thrust before me, I will plough through it. I will learn what I
have to do as the Savior, and I will fulfil my destiny.

Finally I turn from the dawn, and I lean down and
plunge my hands into the cold water.

Though it chills me, sapping at the heat in my
fingers and palms, it also thrills me.

Wa
ter, an element completely opposite to fire, and one I have
never understood.

Not truly.

Yet one I am now inexorably linked to.

Captain Yang

I can't push her. I realize that as I walk away and
begin looking for food.

Plucking leaves and berries and mushrooms from the
bushes and the forest floor, I collect them into my helmet. As I
do, I think.

Whatever secret she is holding, she's been holding it
for a long time. Maybe, just as she said, she doesn't really know
what Castor was up to. In fact, I can believe that easily. Castor
seems like the kind of man to only ever tell you what he wants you
to know.

Still, I can tell she is holding something back. It's
not just my ability to read emotions; it's my growing ability to
read her.

I watch her withdraw, and I felt it. It was as if she
turned the fire back in on herself, trying to close herself down
and swallow the spark.

“Show her she can
trust you, and she'll tell you,” I speak to myself out loud as I
continue to search the forest floor for food.

I thank my lucky stars I was always a conscientious
student. I learnt survival well in the Royal Army. As a child, I
was fond of coming into the forests and learning how to live off
them, but as an adult, I haven't had the time.

And perhaps not the inclination. There is something
about the wild nature of the woods that used to invigorate me, but
that unsettles me as an adult.

I prefer the cold, clean stone of the barracks to the
unruly roots and gnarled trees of the forests.

Now, I have no option.

I take my time looking for food, realizing we may not
come across an area as rich in sustenance for a while.

My plan is to rest only as much as we need to, and
then to plough on to the coastal village. I want to get there as
soon as possible. I need to get there as soon as possible. I have
to put the demons running through my mind to rest. I have to know
just how guilty Garl is.

Though I tell myself there's no longer any doubt, I
need tangible proof if I am ever to convince other people.

I suddenly catch what I'm thinking and shake my head.
If I am ever to convince other people?

Who?

The Royal Family? Other soldiers of the Royal
Army?

They would never believe me. Garl is a hero.

As of last night, I'm a traitor.

“Pull yourself
together,” I tell myself tersely as I fill my helmet and return to
the creek.

At first I can't see Yin, and my heart flutters in
fear, then I notice she is tending to the horse.

The creature looks calm and at ease.

I hang back and silently watch her. She looks so lost
in her task that she hasn't seen me. It takes several moments
before she glances up and sees me there.

Shock pales her
cheeks
. “How long have you been standing
there?”

“I just got here,” I
lie.

She seems contented, and moves away from the
horse.

With a glance at her tunic and pants, I noticed she
has washed and dried them, probably using her own magic rather than
letting the scant sun do it for her.

She has even washed
her hair, though I can't say it looks any neater. With a compulsive
movement, she brushes it over her shoulder, then gets fed up and
pushes it behind her
. “Did you find any
food?”

I nod, and hand her the helmet.

She takes it, and
gingerly sorts through what I found
. “I
would have liked an apple pie and a dumpling stew, but this will
do,” she manages.

I snort
softly
. “I'm glad.” Then I stop myself
before I say she may never partake of such luxuries
again.

Silently, she sits
down by the horse, and I watch as the horse
maneuvers itself until it stands close by her side. The
creature doesn't seem perturbed at all as Yin bangs around loudly
in the helmet, searching for all of the juiciest
berries.

“Once you've eaten,
get some rest. I'll stand guard,” I say as I walk over to the
creek, glancing away from her as I drink some water and clean my
face.

“Let's just push on,”
she says without pause.

“You're tired,” I say
as I sit forward on my haunches, turning over my shoulder to face
her.

She
shrugs
. “And so are you. But we still
want to get as far away from the city as we can. I can keep riding,
how about you?” She looks at me challengingly.

I want to point out that last night she lost so much
blood that it covered the floor, and that she hasn't slept in over
a day, let alone eaten.

I don't.

I realize there’s
only one response she’s going to accept
.
“Fine,” I eventually say.

She leans over and
hands me the helmet
. “Then drink up,
refill the bottles, and get on the horse when you're ready,” she
says as she stands, stretches her shoulders back, and mounts the
horse in one fluid moment.

“Hold on,” I stutter
quickly, “I should ride the horse first; it knows me.”

She turns around on
her saddle, barely yanking on the reins to make the horse move with
her
. “It likes me better,” she points out
flatly. “Now drink, fill the bottles, and you can eat while I
ride.”

I feel my mouth dropping open. There are so many
things I want to say. But again, I know there is only one thing she
wants to hear.

“What, are you
embarrassed to be seen riding behind a woman?” she challenges
suddenly.

“No,” I rally, “we
are traitors. That's the only thing people are going to care about
from now on,” I remark, realizing it’s true once I've said
it.

It really doesn't matter that Yin is a woman. The
only thing that matters is that we do whatever we can to keep on
the run. So even though it is a blow to my ego to let her ride, I
have to appreciate it makes sense.

She seems to have a natural affinity for the horse,
and can control it easily.

. . .
.

But she is a woman, my traditional brain says.

I'm a traitor, I reply.

The rules have changed.

I have to change with them.

Silently I fill the bottles, drink, and mount the
horse behind her.

“Let's go,” she says
with a grunt, then pushes the horse forward.

She doesn't even have to pull on the reins, in fact,
she barely touches it, resting a hand on the back of the horse's
mane instead.

The horse barrels forward, and I have to grab a hand
around something to hold on.

That something, is Yin's waist.

It takes me a moment to realize what I'm doing, and I
jerk back. The move is so sharp, I almost fall, my helmet half full
of food falling with me.

Yin just reaches around, locks me in place, and
secures the helmet at the same time.

“Are you trying to
fall off?” she chides.

“I just
. . . I have nothing to hold onto,” I say with a
cough.

She
snorts
. “You had no problem with me
holding onto your armor last night. Now get a grip on my tunic,”
she says, “and eat your food. We will reach that coastal village
before you know it . . . . As long as you tell me where
it is,” she adds.

Without letting me pull away, she guides my hand
until it's locked onto a section of her tunic.

It's
. . . one of the most uncomfortable
experiences of my life. A man should not hold on to a woman's hips
as she rides a horse.

Then again, a man should not betray his entire
kingdom and run away with a prisoner.

As uncomfortable as
it is, I keep a hold of her tunic, and
maneuver the helmet between us and eat my fill.

With every movement of the horse, her hair whips over
her shoulder, and I have to lean to the side to avoid it as it
tickles over my cheeks and forehead.

There is no avoiding it though, so soon enough I just
get used to it.

The horse somehow seems faster. Though it has run all
night and should rightly be exhausted, Yin is pushing it on, and
the horse doesn't seem to mind.

Which is yet another mystery to add to the growing
pile of questions I have about her.

If you had asked me several weeks ago, I would have
confidently proclaimed that I had never met somebody as annoying as
Yin. As outrageous, as uncouth. But even then I would have had to
admit I've never met somebody as amazing either.

From her power to her will, she is no ordinary woman.
No, she is no ordinary person.

As the world around us flashes past, I'm drawn in to
the colors and forms. The dusty greens of the drying grass fields,
the earthy browns of watery pools of mud, and the radiant blue of
the sky above. If I wasn't on the run from the Royal Army, this day
would be pleasant indeed. A picnic by a river, and an invigorating
horse ride in the fields.

But the closer we get to the coastal village, the
more my stomach cramps with nerves.

. . .
.

What if I don't find anything?

No evidence whatsoever of the massacre, just
indications of a natural disaster?

What if I turned my back on Garl for nothing?

Maybe Yin can sense my growing hesitation, because
once or twice she turns around and looks at me. She doesn't say
anything, she just looks at me. And every time she does, it's as if
she can pull me right out of the pit I'm sinking into.

The sun seems to grow brighter, the air fresher, and
the world around more beautiful.

A few times, however,
I notice Yin turn around with a confused expression on her face.
She twists on the saddle until she looks behind us. Sometimes she
even
maneuvers around me, as if she's
trying to spot something along the path we just trod.

“What is it?” I
hiss.

She doesn't answer. Her face just crumples further
with confusion.

“Yin?”

“It's nothing,” she
manages, “or at least I hope it's nothing.”

“What do you mean?” I
now ask as I turn around and survey the grass fields behind us. I
see nothing but the gently swaying grasses and the trees beyond. In
the distance, covered in cloud, a few mountain peaks, and above I
watch birds darting on the wing.

“It's nothing,” she
repeats to herself as she turns around.

Though it seems as though she is right, and there's
nothing behind us, that doesn't stop nerves from prickling quickly
down my cheeks and sinking into my chest.

The closer we get to
the coastal village, and the more the grass
fields thin, the more she turns around.

“It's not nothing,” I
interrupt. “What do you see?”

“That's just the
problem, I'm not seeing anything. But I . . . sense
there's something out there,” she says.

What she is saying sounds paranoid. I've been on
enough missions and in enough battles to know that soldiers can be
spooked by the shadows. With the adrenaline and pressure of
fighting, you can overreact to every creak of a stick and slither
in the grass.

But this is Yin. A woman who can wake herself up from
a sleeping spell and break herself out of a magical cell.

I can’t dismiss her fear. As I sit there with her,
one arm hooked on her hip, I start to feel it myself.

I turn too, but as I survey the field, I can't see
anything.

The horse goes faster and faster, and we get closer
and closer to the coastal village.

I start to see a
sliv
er of the ocean before us. That
glittering line of blue. So inviting, so mesmerizing.

I can even smell it. Drawn along by a brisk wind, the
unmistakable scent of salt fills the air.

As a child, I loved nothing more than going to the
ocean. It was such a rare treat, that I remember every holiday with
pure joy. Joy, my father always told me was an emotion unfit for a
Royal Army sorcerer.

But as a Royal Army
sorcerer there is something about the inherent power of the ocean
and being close to that much water that
fills me with wonder. Invigorates me, excites
me.

It is the base of my power, and as I draw closer, I
can't help but feel it.

But Yin now turns around in her saddle once or twice
a minute, her face awash with fear.