Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning (19 page)

“I nod.”

“Then I am too,” she
walks forward, and to my total surprise, hooks an arm into
mine.

Before I can splutter
and pull back, she pats my elbow and walks off
. “Thank you for being here,” she says quietly as she walks
away.

. . .
.

I follow. Not before the wind rushes into me,
smelling of rain from the mountains. I stare up, catching a glimpse
of those frozen, snow-covered caps in the distance.

Wild and untamed, they remind me of her.

Yin.

Someone I shouldn't have the time to think about. Yet
someone, apparently, that will not get out of my mind.

The memory and power
of her is about as
potent as the woman
herself.

Still, with a determined breath, I push her from my
mind and follow.

For now I am needed.

Yin

When I’m taken to the doctors, they are thankfully
busy.

With so many soldiers under their care, I imagine
they never have a dull moment.

Which is perfect. I don't want anyone else to see my
hand.

Pumping it back and
forth, I confirm once more that it isn't injured. Somehow it has
become covered in blood
. . .
blood that's appeared out of nowhere.

While for a short while I wonder if it has something
to do with the mirage sorcerers, I quickly dismiss that
possibility. Somehow, I know the blood is mine.

. . .
.

I just don't know how it got there.

Though my guards
grumble at me to wait, I duck forward and grab the attention of the
first doctor I can see
. “Excuse me,
doctor, I can see you're busy. I can treat myself. I've been an
apprentice herbalist for years. I don't have to bother you. I need
some water, a bandage and some yakar ointment.”

The doctor looks flustered.

“Doctor?” I
prompt.

A patient screams from behind him. I can see from the
look of the man's leg, it's broken in several places.

“Doctor?” I prompt
again, knowing I have to get my answer before I give the man time
to think.

“Fine,” he mutters,
pointing towards the far section of the room.

I swallow a smile.

Well that's the first thing that's gone right all
day.

Ducking across the room, I get to a basin of water
and wash my hand well before my guards have a chance to catch up.
Then I expertly smear yakar ointment all over my palm, and bandage
it quicker than any seasoned doctor could.

With my palm and fingers completely hidden by the
thick, sticky, jet-black ointment, I breathe a sigh of relief.

The relief doesn't last.

As soon as my guards see I'm bandaged up, they snap
at me to follow.

Though I really want to snap back, I don't.

General Garl's warning still rings in my ears. The
look he gave me still burns in my mind too. In fact, I know that
when or if I get a chance to close my eyes tonight, it’ll haunt my
dreams as well.

Feeling trapped, but still happy I managed to hide
the mysterious blood on my hand, I follow my guards all the way
back to the training square.

It's safe to say I'm starting to get heartily sick of
this place. Not only because every time I come here I seem to draw
an audience, but because I've already had more than enough for one
day.

Though Castor would always make me train hard every
single day, with no reprieve, I would have plenty of time off in
between. In other words, I lived a life.

Now I realize that life is far behind me. For now,
until I find a way out, this training square will be my home.

“So what happens
now?” I ask one of my guards.

He doesn't even
bother to look at me
. “Women should speak
only when spoken to,” he sneers.

I go to tell him that doesn't stop me from hitting
him over the head with a brick, but quickly hold my tongue.

I can't afford to slip up. I can't let my temper get
the better of me.

I just have to endure this until I can find some way
of getting out safely.

Endure, then attack—Castor's motto. Well, now more
than ever I need to rely on it.

So, lifting my chin, I set my gaze forward and I tell
myself I'm ready to face whatever will come next.

As that resolution solidifies within me, my nose
automatically crumples. As I imagine my training, I imagine one man
only.

Captain Yang. Though I didn't see him during my fight
with the mirage sorcerers, no doubt he was there. Though I only met
the man a day ago, he's like my shadow.

I can just bet he'll be the one in charge of
torturing me.

Still, as I crane my neck and look around the square,
I can't see him. Sure, there are plenty of other soldiers in armor
engaged in training exercises, but as far as I can tell, Yang isn't
amongst them.

He'll be here somewhere though, ready to admonish me
for not being loyal enough, or just as ready to manipulate me with
his false calm.

I spend so much time looking for him, I don't notice
when someone else I know walks up.

Though I should say stalks.

Glancing to the side, I see Mae.

She's in a different pair of shoes, possibly because
the ones I melted are still stuck in the ground.

She looks at me exactly like someone staring at the
most disgusting thing in the world. Her head couldn't be held back
any further, and her nose couldn't be at a stiffer angle.

I hear one of the soldiers behind me snicker.

Despite the fact I'm supposed to be on my best
behavior, I turn slowly over my shoulder and shoot him a
challenging glare.

Satisfyingly, he shuts up and even swallows.

Then Mae is upon me.
She stalks right up the steps and comes to a rest practically under
my nose
. “The General himself has asked
me to train you. He has requested I try. He has told me you will
behave. In fact, he's told me that if you don't, I am to report
directly to him.”

I stand there and stare straight ahead.

“I haven't and will
not forget what you did to me. You are unfit for training, and are
little more than a mountain bear pretending to be a woman. Well, we
both know you will slip up, and I will tell the General.” Mae stops
abruptly, apparently having said all she needed to.

I don't move. Nor do I dare say anything. I swallow
my anger, because I can’t afford to let it show.

“I will wait for you
to fail, and then I will stand there and watch whatever punishment
Garl decides upon,” Mae assures me.

Again, I don't react. It takes all of my discipline
though. I see the hatred and fire burning in her eyes, and all I
want to do is reach in and snuff it out. Not her life, but her
indignation. Her arrogance. Whatever ignorance sees her following
such a twisted man as Garl.

Though I can appreciate being one of the only women
in the Royal Army must be hard for Mae, that doesn't give her the
right to do this.

Nothing gives people the right to blindly follow such
violence.

“Now, come with me,”
Mae flicks her hand down to the square.

I follow.

As I do, I shut my mind off. The caring, feeling
side—I just put up a wall. I won't react, I tell myself. No matter
what she does, I won't react.

I will endure, then I will attack.

With that mindset, I stand before her, and I
train.

Captain Yang

I try to prepare myself for this, but no matter how
many mental tools I call upon, it's not enough.

I follow the Princess back into the palace, and into
an enormous room. There's nothing in it save for multiple sturdy
training mats, all new and glittering blue.

Then, at the far end, a door opens. Three men walk
through.

I recognize one as the head of palace guards and the
other as General Qor.

As the third approaches, my gut twists.

It's Castor.

For a single second he stares right at me, and I see
the same threat dancing in his gaze.

But just as soon as that look hardens his jaw, it's
gone.

Princess Mara steps
forward and bows low
. “I am told you are
the legendary warrior Castorious Barr. It is my privilege to
receive you.”

I wait for Castor to scoff. After all, from what Yin
told me last night, it seems as if Castor thinks nothing of the
Royal Family.

Yet, with only the
slightest pause, he returns Mara's bow
.
“The honor is mine, your Highness.”

I watch Castor, waiting for him to slip up, but he
doesn't.

If I didn't know better, he looks exactly like the
loyal servant he's meant to be.

. . .
.

Maybe Garl was right. Maybe once Castor realized what
the army needed him for—the training of the Savior—the legendary
warrior mellowed.

Still, I can't take my eyes off him. As for Castor,
however, he barely glances my way.

“They tell me you
haven't trained anyone in 20 years,” Mara says as she nods
politely. “I hope I am a worthy student.”

I look keenly at Castor now. We both know he's
trained someone in the past 20 years. In fact, it seems as if he
has spent those 20 years doing nothing but training Yin.

“That is true. Apart
from my apprentice herbalist, I have not formally trained anyone in
the arts of combat,” Castor says smoothly.

It isn't an outright lie, but it isn't exactly the
truth. Yin has to be more than his apprentice herbalist—she melted
Mae's shoes, for god's sake.

Still, I hold my tongue. Not only is it not my place
to talk, I don't want to draw Castor's ire again. Like it or not,
Mara needs him. I will not jeopardize her training as the
Savior.

“Instruct me, and I
will follow your orders,” Mara says as she bows in the traditional
manner of a trainee facing their master—with both hands pressed
together and eyes directed at the ground.

As is customary, Castor does not return the bow.
Instead he strides onto the mat.

There's total silence
in the room. Which isn't surprising—Castor's reputation precedes
him. He single
handedly modernized and
reformed the entire training program for the Royal Army, and was
personally responsible for training some of the greatest men to
have served with her in the last half a century.

He's the closest thing to a living legend.

. . .
.

No, Mara is now the closest thing to a living legend,
considering she is the very embodiment of the Savior myth.

But the fact still stands, Castor has knowledge and
skills far beyond that of most men. So there’s total silence in the
room as he prepares to train the Princess.

“We will begin our
theory today, but before we can properly train, we will need to
find another, more appropriate space,” Castor says in a calm but
authoritative voice.

“There are many rooms
in the palace, Master. I'm sure we'll find one to your liking,”
Mara begins.

“No, not in the
palace. If you are to learn to become a warrior, you must train
amongst them. The training square of the Royal Barracks is by far
the most appropriate space,” Castor says.

Mara looks surprised,
but nods her head
. “As you wish. I don't
usually venture out of the palace—”

“Castorious,” Qor
clears his throat, “that may not be appropriate.”

“It is best we keep
the Princess' training secret,” the head of guards adds.

“I understand these
factors, but I must still recommend training in the square. To
instill in the Princess the proper discipline she requires she must
be amongst warriors. We can’t afford to take this lightly—the fate
of the world rests on our shoulders. I realize it may not be
appropriate to take an ordinary princess into the Royal Barracks
and have her train amongst our soldiers. But Mara is no longer
ordinary. Her fate requires we are bold. We must ensure her
training is as quick and efficient as possible—we do not have time
to waste. While we could bring all the equipment we require to the
palace, and ship in the best warriors we can find, all we seek is
already at the barracks. I suggest we don't make an already hard
task harder, simply for tradition's sake.”

I watch the head of the guards pale slightly. Qor
looks quickly between Castor and the Princess.

Castor has given a compelling argument.

Nevertheless, it's a smoke screen.

I wager the reason he wants to take the Princess to
the barracks has nothing to do with training her amongst warriors,
and everything to do with Yin being there.

Before Qor and the
head of the guards can protest, Mara steps forward and nods her
head
. “Very well, it is decided. I will
train at the barracks.”

“Princess,” Qor
begins.

She raises a hand to
silence him
. “It is decided, General. I
trust Castor. I will follow his judgment in this matter. Now,
Master, let us begin,” she nods again.

Castor nods too. Though his mouth is obscured by his
beard, I swear he gives the smallest of smiles.

I tried to warn Garl about Castor, but Garl did not
believe me. Yet as I stand and watch, I realize I'll have to try
again.

Castor is most certainly up to something.

For the rest of the training session, I stand and
watch.