Strange Rumblings

The sun had almost set over the rural village of Cangshu, with long shadows strewn across the dirt training grounds. Warm air carried a smell of fresh grass and earth cut recently. In a rough circle of boys, stood ready with wooden swords held high, sweat glistening on their forehead as they learned the basics of swordsmanship. Among those boys stood Hei An, still and steady, eyes fixed on his fellow trainees.

Today's lecture was by the village's tutor, Master Zhao. The old man was somewhat mysterious in nature-the gray strands of hair spread like draping mist-and his face was weathered over the years. It was said he had been a guard in the Yunlong Kingdom in the capital city, the very heart where the royal family stayed. He never really spoke of his life, but in his movements there is a tale he tells beautifully, swiftly, and sharply.

"Your attacks are too soft, Hei An," Master Zhao shouted across the circle. "A proper sword does not flex at the first hint of resistance!"

Hei An straightened up, tightening his grip on the wooden sword he carried. He was always told by his father that only repetition and discipline help people grow, but he cannot seem to prevent himself from drifting into thoughts of Ling'er, who was standing nearby, practicing with the other boys.

Ling'er's laughter echoed through the air, light and free of care, as a faint smile met Hei An's lips. She was a natural at the sword, her movements fluid but delicate. Some of the boys watched her more than they ought to, their gazes lingering longer than they should.

"An, you're going slow," one of the boys, Hao, teased with a grin. Hao was a friend of both Hei An and Ling'er but there was a trace of jealousy in his voice whenever he spoke to Hei An. He had been so obvious about his feelings for Ling'er for years, but Ling'er never seemed to notice.

Hei An looked at Ling'er, their eyes met for a second. Warmly, she smiled at him, her eyes soft with tenderness, and that was enough to clear all the rivalry and teasing of the other boys. Still, he could feel the subtle tension in Hao's eyes, barely hidden frustration every time Hei An hung around too close to Ling'er.

"Focus, An!" Master Zhao's voice echoed again through the air. "This isn't a game."

Hei An brought his sword up and drove it forward, renewed in focus, striking out into empty air as he had been taught by Master Zhao. The sounds of their practice continued, but rumbling in the distance, strange vibrations under their feet echoed through the earth.

The lesson ended and as the sun went down, when the boys were already dispersing along the way home. Hei An remained at the edge of the practice grounds. Ling 'er is already merrily going on her way into the village, warmly conversing with friends, so at least for the first time, Hei An was like that.

That night, very late, a feeling stirred within Hei An's breast. A nameless unrest, an unseen hand closed round about his heart, cinching tighter with each drawn breath. He tossed; he turned within his bed; the stillness of the night in the village was shattered by a steady drumming, as if some quake, vibration, ululation moved upwards from under the earth itself. The noise fixed on its surge; more there was to hear.

There was something in the air, danger.

Without thinking, Hei An threw off the covers, slid out of bed, and reached for his clothes. His father's room was dark; the house was too still. He moved as fast as he could toward the door.

When he finally opened it, a cool wind shook around his ankles. There, against the house, was his father. He was staring into the distance: serious, still almost too still.

"Father?" he called softly.

Hei Xing slowly turned around, his sharp eyes scrutinizing the air. His face looked chiseled into a deep concentration. "An, you are up."

"What's wrong?" He asked, coming closer. "I can hear it too-that noise. What is it?"

His father didn't say a word. He simply glanced away, his eyes off toward the forest. That was the direction the noise came from. The rumbling grew louder now, a low-pulsating throb that seemed to come from deep in the earth. Hei An's chest clenched as the unease continued to grow with each passing second.

Without saying a single word, Hei Xing raised his hand and gestured for Hei An to stop talking. The thundering sound intensified, sounding like something was coming, something so colossal that it raked the ground with its passage.

Hei An's heart ran and he failed to open his mouth. His father's silence was everything. His eyes never left the forest as if he were waiting for something, but Hei An did not know what.

"Father, what's happening?" he asked again, this time more urgently.

Hei Xing finally turned his head to look at his son. His eyes, normally calm and calculating, were shadowed with something far more grave. "You need to stay inside, An," he said, his voice low but firm. "Hide, and stay quiet. Do not come out until I say."

"Father—"

"Stay inside," Hei Xing cut in sharply, the command final.

Hei An opened his mouth to protest, but his father reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out a small pendant. The design was simple, a flat, oval-shaped stone, adorned with tiny carvings of ancient symbols, but enough to make Hei An pause.

"This is for you," Hei Xing whispered, his hands shaking slightly as he placed the pendant into Hei An's palm. "Keep it on you, no matter what happens. Do not lose it and do not take it off. Do you understand?"

Hei An's fingers closed around the pendant. His thoughts plunged full of questions, but his father's face chased them all back down into silence. His father was not for fear, but there was something in his eyes now, a deep, unspoken concern that sent a chill right down Hei An's spine.

"I. I understand," Hei An said, his voice hardly a whisper.

Without a word, Hei Xing turned, the dark form dissolving into the night as he sprinted through the woods on a ground-eating stride, disappearing into the darkness.

Hei An stood there for a moment, the pendant warm in his grasp. The growing rumble rose louder and shook the earth beneath him, and a fearful sense of foreboding settled over him. Something was coming.

Something was wrong.