Healer

He appeared to have been cast from cooled and hardened metal.

From gold wrought with iron.

Forged, then released from the molten core of the sun.

Placed on this mortal plane in order to conquer - or destroy- any army foolish enough to believe that they might attempt to defy him.

These were Liao Shen Xue’s first thoughts, observing him.

The way the skin gleamed, pulled taut over hard muscle.

Burnished by rays of light that shimmered through the furling white mists obscuring the final ascent to the rich forested plateaus and vast meadows of Yushan Tien Yun.

Yun Xue kept walking.

Hoping the huge warrior would keep to himself and simply pass by.

He should have filled his water flask more fully at the last spring, a day’s journey back.

His feet were becoming sore.

He had lost count of the days and distance he had walked. His limbs ached and his back muscles felt tight with the effort of ascending the steep, winding mountain road.

The back of his throat had been dry for the last hour of travel.

The golden warrior was most imposing.

He wondered what business this giant Khitan soldier might possibly have with the scholars of Yushan?

A peculiar frisson of unease hollowed his belly.

The barbarian was … too symmetrical.

Such excessive muscularity and physical balance irritated the eyes, causing them to search fruitlessly for a flaw.

Ah, yes, there were several scars on the golden skin … Not perfect after all.

Large. He was far too large.

The warrior’s great size and commanding force spoke clearly of an over abundance of dominating Yang energies… Perhaps he had been cursed.

Yes.

That was a distinct possibility.

He really should stop looking at him, partially unclothed as the barbarian was.

Scandalous.

Instead of elegant or even serviceable robes, this shameless warrior displayed the distinctly Khitan disregard for public modesty of any kind.

Khitan warriors, it seemed, shared a peculiar fondness for running about half naked, regardless of the severity of weather.

Striding about bare chested more often than not, their upper bodies clothed only in an alarming assortment of weapons.

The lively chatter of young students, some returning, some newly arrived for study at the famed mountain temple and estates ordered by the reputable Clan of Yun, fell quiet behind him when the huge warrior emerged from the shimmering mists, as though exhaled by the mountain itself.

The abrupt silence reminded him that he was unnecessarily wasting time indulging in distraction.

He had travelled for all of the unseasonably wet spring and most of the summer, in order to return to his ancestral home.

Clearly, both his weariness and thirst would have to wait.

The young men behind him would likely be among his students.

He must set an example if he wished to prove worthy of their trust and respect.

He was but few years their senior, and had only just returned in order to be in a position of guidance and leadership for them.

With any luck, this Yang- cursed golden giant would remove himself from their path without incident.

But no. Of course no.

The huge barbarian had noticed their unease and paused.

Then, to Liao Shen Xue’s irritable consternation, he began to stride purposefully toward them.

Two of the young students began to reach for their bows, then seemed to think better of it. The rest hurriedly reached for their swords, but having drawn them, they now appeared frozen in place like a nest of young rabbits.

Jargal Saikhan, warlord of the Monquol Khitan, rolled his neck , careful to keep the smile from his face.

There was little room for amusement in the commanding discipline of his days.

He swung his axe, lunging forward with a roar that had parted armies during battle.

Baring his white teeth and tensing his shockingly bare upper body adorned only by two wide crossed leather straps, spinning and tossing the huge double edged axe that he carried, from one hand to the other.

Liao Shen Xue, to his supreme irritation, found himself momentarily riveted.

His traitorous eyes couldn’t help but stare at the way the warrior’s tall body moved. The incredible planes of him… The mountainous muscle, veins and sinew sliding and surging beneath that bronzed golden skin.

The young healer’s gaze grew hard as he frowned.

Grateful that his hood hid his annoyance with himself. At the way he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the huge warrior.

Jargal held back his laughter.

The young scholars were a harmless amusement.

The small group of well dressed students fell back. Falling and stumbling over each other with shouts of alarm.

One standing in front of them, however, held his ground unmoving.

Even as Jargal expertly hefted the wicked, double bladed axe back into its holding strap on his back while closing the short distance between them.

The steadfast one wore dull colourless robes. A worn, hooded brown cloak, threadbare and stained from long travel.

Jargal could see only the suggestion of a pale oval chin from within the shadow of the cloak’s deep hood.

Liao Shen Xue, chosen disciple of the two Shizun Alchemists of Yu Guang Peak, was too tired to be anything but distantly aware that he should perhaps be more circumspect and apprehensive than he was.

The journey here had taken many weeks longer than he had expected due to an alarming flux of bad weather.

Standing here at this moment, he found himself weary to the marrow of his bones.

Yes.

That must be it.

Exhaustion this near to the end of his long journey was why this huge barbarian was irritating all of his senses with such vivid peculiarity.

How puzzling.

The annoying warrior was more distracting than any he had seen - and he had seen a great many of the big soldiers on his journey back to Yushan.

Their overwhelming numbers had been an exasperating impediment.

Adding weeks to his already long journey, for he had been forced to change his route several times in order to circumnavigate the shocking number of military encampments surrounding the city at the foot of the mountain.

It had been impossible to avoid the inexplicably vast numbers of large Khitan soldiers that thronged the main roads.

This bothersome one was now directly in his path.

He knew enough of the Khitan way to be aware that he must not demonstrate himself as weak.

He drew himself up.

Doggedly ignoring his own petty trepidation. Dispersing his own Yang energy and chi.

Setting his exhaustion aside, forcing himself to stand straight backed and unmoving.

The barbarian’s eyes were an odd combination of brown green and gold … Such a penetrating gaze …

Something strange was happening.

His mind began casting about furiously in an attempt to define exactly what it was, because the obvious answer was … completely unacceptable.

He blinked rapidly several times.

His fingers tightened on his walking stick. He made himself not step back.

He had occasionally met attractive young women at the markets in the small villages where he had ventured with his Shizun, to trade and to purchase supplies.

He clearly remembered feeling a relieved exhilaration that he had not felt a true attraction to any of them.

He hoped most sincerely that he might be spared the complication of base physical desires … That perhaps he might have been blessed with a purity of monkish asceticism and thus be free to place all of his own energies toward a higher purpose.

It was a testament to years of self discipline, that he was able to smooth his face to a state of calm neutrality, grateful that the hood of his cloak had hidden what had surely been a momentarily startled expression.

He collected himself. Again.This time with more effort.

Settling into the serene detachment and long practiced discipline required of a true healer.

Forcing his heart to slow. Carefully controlling his breathing.

“Rude”, he said, aloud. Relieved to hear that his voice carried clearly and sounded calm, not at all breathless.

Hazel eyes , gleaming with inner light, turned from the students to gaze intently at him.

The tall warrior had drawn near enough that his healer’s senses could taste his hot , disturbing scent.

Liao Shen Xue did step back this time. For the warrior, this warrior, he tasted …

The warrior tasted of fire.

Of fire and the forge. Deliciously of warm skin, smoke and sweet grasses. The tang of hot iron bent to will.

He was ridiculously healthy - and was now standing directly in front of him.

The wide breadth of his shoulders blocked the golden light of the sun gleaming through the mist.

He could clearly observe the slow steady pulse in the barbarian’s throat. Feel the warmth that radiated from him.

An odd melting sensation rolled lazily down along his arms and legs , accompanied by a strange pooling and alarming tightening in his lower regions.

Before he could think to control himself, his body reacted.

Breathing deeply, lips parted, greedily inhaling the warrior’s masculine scent.

Why? Why this sudden, irrepressible physical disturbance? Why this particular and most barbaric Khitan warrior? He had walked past hundreds of other soldiers, some as large as this one, during his over-long journey, without any bother whatsoever.

He refused to move his feet so much as the width of a millet corn, or raise his head to meet the intimidating gaze he knew that he would find.

He forcibly resisted an inexplicable urge to lean forward, and inhale deeply. To breath in … more. More of the warrior’s intoxicating scent.

He gathered himself. Collecting his senses against an alarming, steadily increasing confusion.

The handsome irritant was standing too close to allow anything that might resemble a proper introduction or pretend to even the barest shred of courtesy.

Thus he spoke coldly to the hard expanse of burnished golden chest and shoulders, directly in front of him, with a brittle authority that he was far from feeling.

“You are either a guest or a student here at Yushan Tien, welcomed under the respected governance of the clan of Yun.’

The chest was easily the widest he had ever seen. The shoulders were absolutely massive.

There was more peculiar hollowing in his stomach. He physically resisted the urge to step back.

Not fear, but akin to it … His senses were in an unfamiliar state of heightened awareness and sensitive acuity.

He was mortified to find himself having to physically resist an appalling desire to run his hands greedily over that chest.

This was getting out of hand.

He must try to think of something - anything - else.

Shizun Feng, one of Liao Shen Xiu’s wise and beloved masters, presently suffered to live part of his day trapped in the body of a stone giant.

He tried to remind himself why he was even standing here.

Wasting time fulfilling a many years old promise, when truly, he should have remained with his Shizun to try to help search for the insidious demon that had stolen part of his Master’s spirit.

Or at the very least, stayed and focused his energies on trying to create the rare elixir that might break the possession.

His two revered masters had been immovable in their resolve that he should return to Yushan exactly at this time.

Now here he was. Completely scandalized at himself.

Growing more alarmed by the minute.

Impossible.

This must - he had to stop immediately.

The vast chest before him slowly rose and fell with infuriating muscular impunity. He could see lines of many older scars on it now.

He stood rigidly as he spoke succinctly once again.

‘If you are a student, then you have obviously been sent to learn something you clearly know nothing about - manners.”

There was collective intake of breath from the students behind him at the sharp words.

A weighty silence. Then a snort.

A deep vibration emanated from the hard golden expanse.

The huge ass of a barbarian was laughing.

Liao Shen Xue had just travelled a very long distance.

He would wonder, later on. Years from this day … if the complicated paths that wound them inextricably together, fraught thick with sorcery blood and vengeance. Putting them both to the indecipherable lusts of ruthless Gods …

He would wonder if any or all might have been avoided had exhaustion and epiphany not made him reckless. If his youthful desire to impress the students that were so near his own age… If he had simply stayed silent.

If he had not pulled back the hood of his cloak in indignation.

Such a small thing to have set so many thousands of destinies to the unmapped seas of war.

Revealing his five times cursed features without realizing the depth of his mistake.

To be fair, he had not yet been made aware that the flesh that sat on the front of his skull was a malediction of unintended enticement or that his features presented elements of such intense provocation.

He had also been ignorant of any sense that his own tired hubris might cause the wheels of fate to grind and shift, cracking the firmament beneath his every expectation, the moment he met the indomitable gaze belonging to the Mandate of Heaven.

As soon as the traveller drew back his hood, a light essence of snow lotus assailed Jargal’s senses.

A vision of snows receding in springtime, edged by clear melting ices, revealing the tender green shoots with their tiny white blossoms, filled his mind like cool rain in a parched desert.

He resisted the urge to bury his hands in the wealth of gleaming black hair. From lowering his head and inhaling deeply.

The intoxicating scent was faint and yet was somehow all around him.

So different from the endless acrid fires of war.

The cleansing air of it seemed to wash away the lingering stench of carrion, charred flesh and ashes that he had thought might never leave the back of his tongue.

Eyes the pale lavender of a winter moon were staring up at him from beneath a thick fringe of dark lashes, set in a face possessed of otherworldly beauty.

Their cold expression was one he rarely saw presented directly at himself. From his father and occasionally from Jarmud.

No others had dared. Not for many years.

How intriguing.

And from such an unexpected one.

The youth standing before him had clearly been cursed with far too many refinements.

Beginning with the unparalleled beauty of his skin.

Ivory smooth and fine, it possessed a quality of nearly translucent dewy freshness that Jargal had never seen belonging to any other.

It looked extremely sensitive.

He immediately desired to touch it.

The oval face was possessed of perfect balance.

Subtle elements of both regal austerity and a sweet, sensual vulnerability were present, to exquisite effect.

The gleaming front hair was pulled through a simple, but finely crafted wood and silver guan, held in place with a distinctive hairpin.

The boy’s mouth could only be described as seductive.

A slightly thinner top lip, the full, wide bottom lip with its soft pout … both the smooth, enticing red of fresh cherries, begging to be tasted…

Any one of these attributes taken alone, would have been enough to elevate the possessor to a higher status of memorable beauty.

To find all of them so lavished on one individual called something rapacious scaled and glistening to open its eyes.

Something that had only ever wakened within him in midst of a violent siege. That caused battle hardened men to throw down their weapons and yield when they saw it.

He felt it’s ancient celestial gaze peer out at the exquisite youth and it’s draconian love of rare and beautiful things begin to fill him with a ravenous desire to lock him away, so that he - and he alone, might view him.

Take him.

Possess him completely.

He thrust his hands inside the traveller’s outer robe, pulling him in hard along his body.

He had expected the young man might protest or struggle. Instead the slender body curved like a bow, moulding to his, as the youth dropped his walking stick, allowing it to fall unheeded to the ground.

Pale slim-fingered hands lay flat on Jargal’s chest, then began slowly sliding upward. The pupils of the beautiful eyes dilated, gazing up at him with something that was more fascination than fear.

He felt the traveller’s breathing - and his own - mingle and become shallow.

The students were shouting. There were answering voices rapidly growing in volume behind him.

The vast glittering serpent within, remained awake, but shifted its immeasurable coils and slowly settled back once more. Satisfied that a choice had been made.

Only after he released the traveller, did he feel a mild displacement, like the echo of an important memory. Near, but just out of reach.

The young enchanter wore no choker, chain or richly coloured robes designating him as a high ranking member of the reputable sect of Yushan Tien Yun.

Instead, his clothing was coarsely spun and plain. Of subdued browns and muted greys. His cloak and satchel were both well worn and unadorned.

Only the finely crafted coronet and hair pin gave Jargal any indication of noble Yun heritage.

Jargal held faint hope that he might be a student from a lesser , distantly related clan, and as such, less confined by the many strictures and ordinances of the famous lawmakers of Yun, however much his youthful proud behaviour might indicate otherwise.

It would make things less complicated.

The architect philosophers of Yushan were famed for their skilled diplomacy and ancient arcane knowledge - not for the beauty of their cultivators.

The one standing before him was incomparable.

Under different circumstances he would have had him writhing beneath him before the sun lowered.

He was long accustomed to use of forceful command followed by swift and ruthless action.

To making fast and often brutal decisions that would mercilessly turn the tides of war.

It was possible that waiting could sometimes encompass a better strategy.

He had ostensibly come to this place in order to practice patience. To create laws and observe some finer points of diplomacy.

He disliked both long intrigue and spy craft, but skill at both was necessary.

A long wait could be the better strategy required for complete conquest of the nine kingdoms of the known world.

Six kingdoms he had offered slavery and subjugation to if they surrendered and opened their gates to his hordes. He had offered their men the chance to join his armies.

If they refused or sent their soldiers to meet his tumens, he and his warriors first brutally defeated their legions. Then swept through the cities and villages, slaughtering without mercy.

Destroying most of the crops. Burning the buildings. Sparing some aged, some callow youths … a few skilled craftsmen.

Taking the women and children to be assessed then distributed as wives or warriors. Concubines servants or slaves.

Leaving the land in ruins, but with foundations to rebuild, manifest under the new laws he was here to help create and then enforce for the present Khan.

The seventh Kingdom had been smaller and weaker, and had known that their armies were no match for him.

They had offered their throats like two legged sheep and given their coffers, palaces and the submission of their people, to the Khitan.

They were now Ulus. To be counted as Irgen.

His will would ultimately be directed by no force but his own. Not even the celestial dragon’s.

He lifted a heavy curl, rubbing the glossy blue-black strands between a calloused thumb and finger.

Hair like finest silk. Such beauty was worth untold caravans of riches.

The bold traveller seemed to have recollected himself, stepping back at last, lowering his eyes, their thick lashes fanning prettily.

Jargal watched a becoming flush colour the dewy skin a rosy pink.

The slightest expression was enchantment. A reward from the Heavens.

Yes.

He decided he would wait to savour this delicious jewel.

The conquest would be sweeter for it. He would be … patient.

For the first time in years he was not physically at the forefront of the many hundreds thousands Khitan army of the Khagan, razing cities and vanquishing all that lay before him.

Bathed in gore, flies and sweat. Standing in smouldering rubble. Judging fealty of the surrendered.

Overseeing endless executions in blood soaked fields, then ordering the reconstruction to begin.

He would use this time to learn to practice a different kind of war.

Yushan blood had been among those chosen to blend the God touched ichor in his veins. A gift from his patriarchal grandmother.

It was she who suggested to send him here, secure in the knowledge that this lush and verdant mountain range , its surrounding farm lands, great city and coastal villages, would bear no need of conquest.

This place would be set aside as a valued and prosperous capital of education and of healing. A seat of power and of strategic importance.

An agreement had long been understood.

He already had vast experience of what lay at the base of a warrior’s purpose.

Clear insight of what most of his soldiers wanted.

He had earned their hard won loyalty and the title that they called him.

Sangun.

The last and largest two realms possessed a wealth of beautiful structures, as well as an intelligence of design and flourishing trade, that the Khan had told him that he wished to hold intact.

Fine.

For now he would learn the carefully woven languages of intrigue. Create laws to govern his dominion, and consider the extant rewards of a long game.

Let them sweat and not sleep, wondering when their time was at hand.

Let them count the grasses of the plains and then imagine they were strong enough to stand against him.

All would be his.

In good time.