But Zen was focused on the Silver Dragon. He could sense a wrongness to its energies, the overwhelming power that could only mean it was fully unleashed. That it was no longer in Lan’s control.
She hadn’t been able to conjure the full Godslayer. The portion she had woven had only disrupted the qì of the Demon Gods temporarily. The power of the Black Tortoise was returning; the Azure Tiger’s shape was flickering back to life. The sky had been split into four quadrants just like Lan’s star maps: red, blue, black, and silver; phoenix, tiger, tortoise, and dragon.
All of the Four Demon Gods were present here tonight. Releasing them, to breaking this cycle of power, was more important than anything else in this world.
Zen turned and ran into the streets, down the path where Lan had disappeared. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erascius following behind him.
Zen put on a burst of speed with the Light Arts, unfurling his left palm as he did. The Seal binding him to the Forty-Four pulsed with qì; through it, he could feel the will of each of the Deathriders, could choose to dive into any one of their cores and take over should he wish.
His command reverberated down the connections thatbound them to him.Take out all the Elantians. Do not touch any Hin.He paused and conjured a few key memories in his mind: Yeshin Noro Dilaya, with her fierce gray eye and scowling red mouth, the dao that had once belonged to her mother. Master Nur, the Nameless Master, the disciples of Skies’ End.
Fight with them and protect them.
He sensed their agreement through the bond that connected them.
Zen put on another burst of the Light Arts, following the path of Lan’s qì down the city’s winding, empty streets. He was close, so close.
He saw Lan first. The sight of her crumpled on the ground in a pool of blood broke something in him.
Hóng’yì looked up only as the gust of wind from Zen’s Seal slammed into him, forcing him back several steps. Leveraging this moment of surprise, Zen bent to the ground and scooped Lan up. He slipped her ocarina into his storage pouch. Then he began tracing another Seal.
Flames erupted overhead as the Phoenix let out a furious cry. Zen held Lan against him, gritting his teeth as he shielded her from the searing heat. Through the strokes of the Seal he was conjuring, he saw that Hóng’yì had reoriented himself. The heir wore an ugly look on his face as he lifted his hand, beckoning his Demon God.
Zen traced the last stroke of his Seal. Overhead, a blue light illuminated the sky, moving their way; he looked up to see Erascius emerging from one of the streets, the Azure Tiger following overhead. As the Royal Magician’s pale gaze latched onto Zen holding Lan, his expression darkened, and he slashed his arm down toward them.
Zen’s Gate Seal opened. The last he saw of the battle was the Azure Tiger and the Crimson Phoenix clashing in amaelstrom of fire and water before he tumbled into the cold, clear night.
—
Zen alighted on a mountaintop. It was silent here with only boulders and pines, everything frozen beneath a thick coat of snow. He knew this as the mountain separating the Northern Steppes, which the Mansorians had once held, from the rest of the Last Kingdom. To the north lay his homeland, the great plains of ice that thawed to summer grasses beneath the sun each cycle. To the south, beyond the cliffs, was a stretch of forest that ended at the Heavenly Capital. He could see it from here: the glow of lanterns and Elantian alchemical lamps, now drenched beneath the flickering blues and reds of the two remaining Demon Gods.
His father had brought him here before, so long ago. He’d told Zen this was the highest summit in all the lands and that it was here that the skies had opened and the Mansorian clan had reached up and touched a god, which had granted them their powers. The Skies’ Opening, his people had called it.
The Hin had a name for it, too: Heaven’s Gate.
Zen knelt in the snow with Lan in his arms. Gently, he cradled her head on one arm. Her skin was cold to the touch. Red soaked her midriff and was beginning to stain the snow. He could feel her life qì seeping out with her blood. The Silver Dragon’s energy wrapped over her, sustaining her life, but just barely—so it could retain control and use her as a vessel, a puppet.
Just as the Black Tortoise had used him.
He could sense both of the Demon Gods watching them, their forms barely visible: one whose qì stirred the snows on the ground and in the pines around them, and another whose qì roiled in the clouds overhead.
Zen ignored them. He pressed a hand to Lan’s midriff. Closed his eyes.
His qì began to flow into hers, knitting over the embers of her core and weaving together flesh and veins and muscle. Shàn’jun had been the one with more finesse, with the patience and love it took to make a good Medicine disciple; Zen had performed only passably in Master Nóng’s Medicine classes, just enough to learn the basics.
Allow your qì to take root,Master Nóng had told them in class.You must replenish your patients’ cores with yours. In a way, your qì will always remain with them—both literally and symbolically—for having saved their lives. Poetic, is it not?
And take root it did. Lan’s core opened like a flower, drinking from the qì he gave her, and Zen gave and gave and gave. Sweat formed along his temples; his body temperature was dropping and his breathing growing rapid at his exertion. He rested his chin on her head, leaning against her, and that was how he felt her stir.
He looked down. The world had grown a little hazy, but everything cleared when her eyes opened again.
Her lips parted. “Zen,” she whispered, and he might have given the world to hear her speak his name again. “What have you done?”
He was tired, but he did not wish to see her shiver from the cold. Zen cast a Seal for warmth and wrapped it around them. He closed his eyes briefly, letting himself hold her for a moment longer. Remembering her faint scent of lilies, the tickle of her hair.
Then he drew back. Reached into his storage pouch and pressed her ocarina into her hands. “We haven’t much time,” he said softly.
“Zen….” She pushed herself into a sitting position and looked back toward the Heavenly City, from where demonicenergies rolled out in heavy waves. “What happened? Hóng’yì—Erascius—”
