Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning (10 page)

Still, with a deep breath, I call on my control. It
is up to me to show restraint here, for lord knows a sorcerer like
her can't. If I wait around for Yin to become reasonable, I'll
become an old man with a 20-foot beard.

Yin swivels her gaze to stare at me. I can see the
concentrated hatred burning in her gaze.

Which, frankly, is not something I'm used to. I've
always been blessed when it comes to women. Most Royal Army
sorcerers, after all, know how to read the emotions of others and
act accordingly. While we control our own feelings, it's all too
easy to read those of others.

The ability to know what a woman is after has always
stood me in good stead. My appearance also helps.

Right now my charms clearly aren't working on the
mysterious Yin. Rather than looking at me with a blush warming her
cheeks, she looks as if she wants to send me hurtling through the
wall with a kick.

I clear my
throat
. “Please, just go into your room.
You will be safe there. As I said before, you have my word that
nothing will happen to you. I can vouch for your
safety.”

“As I said before,”
she says, her voice trilling, “I don't trust you. Words mean
nothing. Action means everything. If you really want me to believe
you, just let me out.”

I press my lips together.

Though I shouldn’t, I feel frustration rise through
my chest.

She knows she can't leave; that's been explained to
her countless times. In a patient, understanding tone, I have told
her she can’t go and that she will be treated well. Yet she
persists in demanding to be set free. Reasoning with her is like
talking to a mountain lion, and quite possibly just as
dangerous.

“Sir, I can deal with
this,” the guard offers with a grating grunt. “She's only a
woman.”

I don't need to be able to read his emotions to tell
he's getting angry. His body language betrays that, as does the
look in his eye.

“You can deal with
yourself,” Yin barks back. “But if you come near me, I'll show you
you're only a man.”

The guard bristles.

He also reaches for his bludgeon.

“I will deal with
this,” I step closer to the guard, raising a hand in a stopping
motion.

The guard doesn't let go of his bludgeon, but he
doesn't step closer to Yin either.

For her part, she leans there in the doorway, her
arms crossed, a challenging smile on her lips.

“Sir,” the guard
begins.

“You're relieved. I
will send for you when I need you,” I tell him as I offer a short
salute.

The guard looks wary, but soon returns the salute and
begins to walk away. He casts Yin a glare as he does though. One
she happily returns as she offers a short wave.

Then she returns her attention back to me.

For a few seconds she
says nothing. She stares at me as if she's considering the most
loathsome thing in all the lands
. “I
don't care what you're plans are, I'm not going to help you,” she
tells me flatly.

I am used to the ladies of the Royal City being less
than direct. Polite, careful, and always thoughtful. Yin, however,
holds nothing back.

“You should care what
our plans are,” I say, choosing my words slowly, “because if you
paused to understand them, you would realize they are good. They
are just. We are here to help the people of this Kingdom,” I say
emphatically as I spread a hand over my chest plate.

She looks unmoved, and crosses her arms tighter.

“I will do anything
to protect the people of this land. From the Queen herself, to
every loyal citizen, I am prepared to sacrifice my life for their
security,” I continue.

“Anything?” she
suddenly challenges.

“Anything,” I
agree.

“Including capturing
an old man, attacking a woman with an entire unit of soldiers, and
warmongering?” she asks snidely.

My calm falters.

She sees it.
Narrowing her eyes, she shakes her head
.
“My uncle warned me about people like you. He told me you always
pretend war is immanent so you can keep a stranglehold on
resources. So you can keep the populace in a constant state of fear
so they are easier to control.”

I falter again. But just as frustration kindles in my
belly, something else does.

Curiosity.

What exactly has Castor told this woman? According to
the stories I've been told, Castor is one the most loyal and
capable soldiers the Kingdom has ever had. But if Yin is to be
believed, Castor's legendary loyalty is a myth.

“He's warned me about
people like you,” she repeats, suspicion flashing in her
eyes.

“What has he told
you?” I suddenly ask. “That we're all monsters? That we use our
power to control people? Has he conveniently failed to share
details of all the villages we have saved, of all the good men we
have lost protecting people just like you?”

She presses her lips
together and looks surly. But her silence can't
last
, “he told me men like you distract
yourselves. You forget about the real war, and content yourselves
with the petty disputes of nations.”

Now curiosity
overtakes my fire completely. My eyes narrow and my lips part
slowly
. “Sorry? The real war? What does
that mean? What's the real war?”

She blinks suddenly, and looks as if she's said
something she regrets.

“What is your
relationship to Castor? He isn’t your uncle, so why do you call him
that? Why did he train you?” I suddenly ask, unable to hold onto my
questions anymore.

She takes a step back.

An armed soldier couldn’t get her to walk into her
room, but my simple questions are enough.

With a steely look
she locks a hand on the door
. “I'm done
talking to you. I've said all I need to. I'm not going to help
you.”

“And you're not going
to answer my questions either, are you?”

She stands there and glares at me for a single second
before she slams the door in my face.

. . .
.

I blink, and I stare at her door, blinking again.

Finally I step forward and draw the thick lock into
place. Technically the inside of her room should be filled with
enough specialized enchantments to stop Yin from using her powers.
They stop anyone from summoning magic, creating a wall between them
and the power within their Arak devices. Yet as I draw that bolt
into place, I can't fight the feeling it won't be enough. It feels
a little like trying to keep a raging forest fire back by blowing
at it.

Still, as I lock the door and stand back, I feel a
measure of relief.

I can finally go and eat, bathe, and sleep.

. . .
.

But first I have to walk away from her door, and
that's proving to be a harder task than it should.

I find myself locked in place for entirely too
long.

It takes another soldier walking down the hall to
break my reverie. In a commanding tone, I tell the man to stand
guard outside her door, and then I turn and leave.

I do so slowly, though. Every step away from her door
is laborious, as if I'm trying to trek through knee-deep snow.

There's something unquestionably mysterious about
her. Something more than the force, bluster, and flame.

Right then and there, I tell myself I'll come to the
bottom of it. Not for Queen and country, but to satisfy my own
curiosity.

Though I can’t know it, that simple oath will alter
my destiny irrevocably.

I most certainly will never be the same again.

Nor will the Kingdom I love so dearly.

Yin

I'm trapped. Like an animal. But unlike an animal, I
am fully aware of just how trapped I am.

There isn't much furniture in this small room, but I
soon sit on the edge of my simple bed.

I stare around. I see nothing but cold, drab stone
walls.

My room at home has a large window that looks out
into the forests rimmed with sky. It's breathtaking, and always
serves to calm my nerves.

These walls, however, do nothing but agitate me
further. The neat, uniformly-carved bricks remind me of the neat,
well-trained soldiers. But more than that, of Captain Yang. With
his clean-shaven face, carefully-arranged uniform, and falsely calm
tone, he's exactly like every brick in my wall.

Unnatural.

Feeling the anger and panic rise all the way up my
throat, I sniff wildly and strike out at the wall behind me. Though
I ball my left fist up and hit it with all my might, no power
erupts over my skin. I can feel it within me, but for some reason,
I can’t command my Arak band to spew forth its power.

I jump to my feet, my chest constricting with
fear.

Bringing a leg up, I stamp it hard into the floor for
balance. Then I punch out with my left hand, concentrating all my
mind into my device.

I scream at it to send power rippling out into the
room.

It does not. In fact, it barely makes a hissing
noise, let alone an explosion.

“What's going on
here?” I ask the empty room. “What's happening?” I ask even
louder.

For several minutes I keep trying to call up my
ability. No matter what I try, I can’t conjure it. Something is
blocking me.

Feeling more trapped than before, I race over to the
door and tug on it. Though I try to force it, the sturdy metal will
not budge.

I’m locked inside.

. . .
.

I really am trapped.

I don't even have my magic to rely on.

As that realization dawns, I gasp, my breath catching
hard in my throat.

Shaking my head, tears welling in my eyes, I press my
back into the door and slowly slide down it. The ragged seams in
the metal tear at my tunic, but I don't care. I slide down until I
strike the floor. Then I lean there, pulling my legs up until I
tuck my head between my knees.

I used to tell myself I'm not the kind to cry. Yet
right now, there's no stopping the tears. They rush down my cheeks
like snowmelt from the mountains.

Castor is gone, I’m trapped, and somehow this room
has captured my ability to cast magic.

Things could not be worse.

. . .
.

No, they could be worse. People could find out I'm
the Savior.

That's the one secret I still have. The one thing I
have left.

Though it's hard, I stop the tears. I swallow and
push them back.

I don't dry them though; I let them moisten my cheeks
for as long as they will. For I am not ashamed of them. I don't
have time for shame.

Instead I sit there and slowly control my
breathing.

I will get out of here. I don't care how long it
takes, and I don't care what I have to do. But I will break
free.

I am the Savior. I have a sacred task to perform, and
no one will hold me back from that. Which includes the whole of the
Kingdom, and especially Captain Yang.

With that determination building within, I lift
myself up and lie down on my bed.

Eventually I fall asleep.

I dream only of the Night.

Captain Yang

It feels good to wake up the next morning. For the
first time in days, I'm refreshed.

Unfortunately all too soon that feeling disappears.
Before I can even shave, I receive a knock at my door and curt
orders to meet with Garl.

I dress as quickly as I can, then I hurry out my door
with my helmet tucked firmly under my left arm.

As I race through the corridors, I notice there are
more guards present than usual. They are always easy to spot—whilst
soldiers wear the gold and yellow of combat, the guards of the city
wear imperial blue. Generals and other men in power often wear jet
black, and the Queen and Royal Family are the only ones allowed to
wear purple.

That has been the way for countless years, and will
no doubt continue for centuries.

For this Kingdom will continue for years and years to
come. She will never fall.

Not even the Carcas will be enough to drag her down.
Though the threat they represent is a fearsome one, I've always
been confident the Royal Army can overcome it.

As soon as I think that, a niggling thought
interrupts me. At once I am reminded of Yin's words. She accused me
and the rest of the army of warmongering. She accused us of
fighting the wrong war.

What could she mean?

What other war is there to fight?

Before I can think that over, I enter the General's
office. It is a spacious, regal affair. There are paintings of the
Royal Family adorning the walls, and swords lined up above the
mantelpiece.

He turns to me as I enter, and lowers his head in a
curt bow. I, however, bend double and offer him the traditional
salute of the Royal Army.

As I raise my head, it's in time to see a confused
look cross his features.

I have known Garl for years. In fact, he knew my
father, and I remember Garl from when I was a child. He's always
been a stalwart man. The kind of bustling, powerful soldier the
Royal Army is founded upon.

Well right now he looks less than sure of himself.
Somehow, the man appears rattled.

I do not need to read his emotions to see that; his
mere presence reveals his state of mind completely.

“Sir?” I ask
hesitantly.

“Sit down, Yang,”
Garl says as he sweeps a hand towards one of the large, ornate
recliners behind his desk.