Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning (13 page)

Awkwardly, I stand straight and clear my throat.

Mae shoots me a terse look.

“You're training is
not impressing anyone—your lack of manners, however, is. You are
like a creature at the zoo,” Mae stares down her nose regally.
“They've only assembled to watch me train a wild bear dressed in
women's clothing,” Mae indicates the soldiers standing around the
square with a sweep of her arm.

Yin doesn't react. If I'd said that, she would have
ripped my head off. But, for some reason, she's showing restraint
today.

Pressing her lips together, I watch her breathe
steadily.

I also see her eyes dart steadily over Mae, then to
the square behind, then up to the buildings and the city
beyond.

Is she still looking for a way to escape?

Just as that thought flashes through my mind, I
notice something else.

There is a truly
far-away quality to her gaze. The look behind her eyes is
almost
. . . dream-like. Not to
say she looks disconnected. Far from it, in fact. It seems
. . . she's staring at something I can't see.

. . .
.

I shake my head, realizing my mind is playing tricks
on me. No, worse than that—I'm deliberately using the mysterious
Yin to distract myself from what I've just learnt.

Princess Mara is the Savior. The Savior.

Here I am leaning on a pillar and watching a village
girl train.

I straighten up and stand back, breathing steadily
and deliberately as I do.

I call on the ever-present cool calm of my magic. I
let the numbing qualities of my power wash through me. As it does,
it cleanses emotion. Simply draining it away like blood from a
wound.

I step back again.

I go to turn.

Something holds me back.

“This training will
be short,” Mae says as she takes a careful, dignified step back,
furling her hand before her as she does. “You may have
. . . a measure of power, but unless you can learn to
fight properly, you will have no place in the Royal
Army.”

I watch Yin bite down on her lip. I can see the move
as if she's right in front of me and I'm staring at her mouth and
neck. Every jerk of her muscles betrays her emotion, as does the
burning look in her eyes.

As a Royal Army sorcerer, I can read emotion, but
there are some people whose emotion you need no special power to
see. Sorcerers like Yin especially wear their feelings like
garments, unobstructed and unhidden.

Yin, however, is so intense, I feel like I'm inside
her very mind. I know exactly what she's feeling.

So, without realizing it, I find myself taking a step
closer again and losing myself in the show.

“Just do what you
have to,” Yin snaps.

“Defend yourself,”
Mae snaps back. Then she flings her hand to the side.

Not once does she actually launch herself at Yin.
That's not how women fight. Female sorcerers tend to stay on the
edges of any battle, providing long-range support, but never
entering the fray.

Yin, however, clearly doesn’t know that. For as Mae
sends a burst of magic her way, she jumps up to meet it again. She
does not double back and try to dodge—she leaps into the crackling,
flaming blast as if she doesn't care that it can burn her.

. . .
.

Maybe she doesn't, because once more I see the look
in her eyes.

I've been around soldiers my entire life—I've seen
bravery in all its shapes and sizes—and yet there's something about
the pure intensity behind Yin I've never met before.

Without realizing it, I take another step forward,
forgetting about my pressing task.

I'm not the only one either—soldiers and guards are
filtering out into the square, craning their necks to watch.

Mae flicks her hand, and sends another shot of power
spiraling towards Yin.

Once more, Yin jumps up to meet it, letting the
crackling blast slam against her stomach.

The force of the impact is enough to send her
shifting back, but she twists in the air, and lands on her own two
feet.

With a slight grunt, Mae sends two bursts of magic
from both hands. They arc around and travel right at Yin.

Yin
. . . jumps up to meet them
both.

She could have dodged. Easily, considering how deft
she is on her feet. Yet she deliberately meets each shot head
on.

She lands, pressing one hand into the ground as the
magical flames disburse off her body.

Despite the intense light of the magic bursting
around her, I swear her gaze burns brighter.

I watch as Mae hesitates, and I catch a glimpse of
her expression. The haughty quality of her gaze is starting to
crack. She looks confused.

“What are you doing?”
she asks as she sends yet another shot of power towards Yin, and
Yin leaps up to meet it once more. “Why aren't you
dodging?”

Yin doesn't answer. She flips and rolls and sprints,
catching each burst of magic right in the chest.

I watch Mae flick her hands wide and shoot a jet of
magic far away from Yin. Yin puts on a burst of speed and flings
herself forward, catching the blast in the chest once more.

Her tunic is ruined, and singe marks cover her arms
and cheeks. Her once neat hair is now a loose mess over her eyes.
It can't hide her gaze though. Nothing this side of solid lead
could hide Yin's intensity.

“What are you doing?”
Mae hisses, her voice shaking slightly. “Why are you meeting each
of my blows?”

Yin lands, and I see she's out of breath. Yet she
pushes herself up, shifts one foot back, balances her stance, and
looks Mae dead in the eyes.

She doesn't say a word.

Mae is getting flustered, and I have never seen her
do that. She hesitates, bringing her hand up but pausing. Then she
shoots another jet of magical flame at Yin, then another. The
entire time Mae hardly moves. She shifts her hands in beautiful,
choreographed arcs, yes, but she doesn't run around and jump and
tumble like Yin.

Women sorcerers tend to stay in exactly the same spot
and let the male warriors do the legwork in any battle.

But not Yin

Without a word, Yin manages to slam herself into both
of Mae's shots.

Then she lands. This time the move is heavy, and she
stumbles. Her chest punches in and out as she struggles for
breath.

But she doesn't fall. She still doesn't say a
word.

“What are you doing?”
Mae, looking completely flustered now, gazes over to me, then back
to Yin. “You are meant to defend.”

Yin stands there, her stance balanced, her eyes open
and unblinking, and her lips closed.

Now I swear every single soldier in the barracks has
come out to watch.

Mae hesitates again,
but brings her hands up once more
.
“Defend yourself,” she demands as she shoots another jet of magic
at Yin.

I can see the power as the blast slams forward. It's
hot white and crackling.

And
yet, incredibly, Yin turns, and faces it.
Spreading her arms wide, she doesn't protect herself—she opens up
and lets the magic slam into her chest.

The force of the blow is such that she’s knocked
clean off her feet.

I automatically jerk forward, taking a step down into
the square.

. . .
.

Then she gets up. Yin presses her hands into the
stones below her and hauls herself up. The whole time she doesn't
say a word. Though her clothes are ruined and her hair is a mess
over her soot-covered face, she doesn’t scream nor grunt nor curse
nor beg.

Astoundingly, she shifts one foot back and takes up a
defensive position once more.

She is bedraggled, beaten, and barely standing. Yet,
from the look in her eye, you can't tell that. In fact, if you saw
her expression alone, you would think she could do this all
day.

. . .
.

Mae's hands shake slightly as she shoots me another
flustered look. Her hair, as always, is perfect. Her tunic is clean
and neat. Her shoes don’t have a single mark upon them. In other
words, she looks completely different to Yin. The contrast is so
stark as I swivel my gaze between them, that my lips part open in
surprise.

“I said
. . . defend yourself,” Mae says as she brings both hands
up.

I can tell she's getting ready for a devastating
blow—I can feel her magic charging.

Yin doesn’t shift back. She doesn't whimper, she
doesn't even wince.

She doesn't even wince.

Power builds up along Mae's hands from the double
bands encircling her wrists, crackling between her fingers like
lightning arcing through the clouds. The next move she makes will
be enough to bring down an army, let alone an already weakened
woman.

. . .
.

Yin doesn't shift back. She shifts forward.

The blow could kill her, and she still moves right
into it.

But so do I. Before I even know what I'm doing, my
body leaps forward, and I call magic out of the ether. Punching my
fist out, I send a wall of twisting blue and white blasting into
Mae's blow, extinguishing it completely.

I land right before Yin, facing Mae.

She's as surprised as I am.

“Enough,” I find my
voice. “You've made your point.”

Mae looks indignant, but concedes my order with a
short nod.

Though she doesn't say it, I can tell from her
emotions she's relieved. Better I end it than she. It is obvious
she has never faced a recruit quite like Yin before, and has
absolutely no idea how to deal with her.

And neither do I, apparently. For as I stand there, I
feel a light touch on my arm.

Yin pushes into me and shifts past. Without a word,
she takes up a defensive position beside me, no longer allowing the
bulk of my form to block her from Mae.

Mae, about to turn
away, stops. She stares over her shoulder at Yin, her lips parting
open with surprise
. “It's over,” she
hisses.

Yin doesn't say anything. She holds that defensive
position, her balance almost perfect, despite the fact I can tell
she can hardly stand.

“It's over,” I
repeat. “Yin?”

She looks at me. From
under her soot-covered brow, she stares my way
. “Are you giving up?”

I stutter through my
surprise. My brow crumples as my lips pull wide
. “It's over,” I say again, “It's just
training.”

“You foolish girl,”
Mae adds. “You're impressing no one with this game. It's clear you
can’t be trained,” Mae concludes with an unsettled breath. “You
would be nothing but a burden to the Royal Army. If this were a
real battle, and Captain Yang here hadn't decided to intervene,”
Mae notes with a sniff, “you would have lost long ago. You know
nothing about true battle.”

Yin, somehow still
standing, raises an eyebrow
. “First you
endure,” she says quietly, “then you attack.”

A cold shiver passes
up my back, forcing my hair to stand on end
. “Sorry?”

“That’s all you need
to know about training, battle, and the art of victory,” Yin says
smoothly.

As she speaks, I swear I can hear Castorious Barr's
grumbling tone. No doubt that's a phrase he's repeated to her
multiple times. Indeed, considering what I've just seen, it's also
a lesson she's taken to heart.

Mae snorts and turns to move away.

She can't. Something has caught her shoes, locking
them in place. As she tries to move, she loses balance.

I rush forward and grab her before she can fall. It's
only then I realize her shoes are stuck to the cobbles.

The soles have been melted.

With one hand on Mae's shoulder supporting her, I
turn slowly to face Yin.

Throughout the battle, she melted Mae's shoes, and
Mae didn't even notice.

Still holding her defensive position, Yin relaxes,
crossing her arms before her, apparently not caring about the
injuries she's given herself.

“You . . .
you melted my shoes,” Mae roars.

Mae ordinarily never loses her temper. She is
restrained, refined, and dignified. Now her cheeks are hot with
rage, and her eyes are flickering with unrestrained
indignation.

“I endured, then I
attacked,” Yin says.

“How dare you,” Mae
snarls through a locked jaw, her lips moving sharply over her
perfect teeth.

Yin crosses her arms harder and stares Mae down.

. . .
.

I realize I have to do something, and yet I can't
quite bring myself to act. In all my years I’ve never seen someone
attack quite like Yin did. From seasoned warriors to sorcerer
masters, even to generals.

She melted Mae's shoes, for god's sake.

And Mae didn't notice. Whilst she was busy attacking
Yin, sending bursts of power slamming into her chest, Yin was busy
casting her own subtle but effective spell.

I try to calm myself down, telling myself it isn't
that impressive, but then I make the mistake of staring out around
the square. Every soldier is watching on in uneasy, awed
silence.

“You'll never learn
to fight like—” Mae begins, her cheeks hot with rage.

“A woman? Good. I was
taught not to fight like a woman or a man. I was taught to win,”
Yin says. Then she turns away. “I'll show myself back to my room,
shall I?”

I should say something—tell her to stop, punish her
for what she's done to Mae. Instead I stand there and watch her
stalk across the square as if she hasn't just endured a frantic,
violent battle.