Six Celestial Swords

by T. A. Miles

  “It’s not a natural heat,” Tarfan grumbled. “And it does nothing to penetrate the gloom in this glorified cave. Now, just lie there and soak up the light, mage! My niece is preparing you a fine broth to start negotiating proper eating habits with your sensitive stomach.”

  Xu Liang grimaced at the thought of swallowing anything. “Please, Tarfan. I’m not hungry.”

  “Well, I appreciate your opinion, but it’ll be going down just the same. No one’s asking you to enjoy it.”

  Xu Liang peered over his hand, but he only caught a glimpse of the dwarf while Tarfan moved from one standing mirror to the next, positioning and repositioning so that the reflected light shone evenly around the bed. A disturbing image of being force fed by dwarves made him sink his head back down into the pillow with an inaudible sigh. “How could I have been so careless?” he asked softly of himself.

  The dwarf happened to overhear. “I think it was care, actually, that got you where you are now.”

  Xu Liang closed his eyes, not wanting to hear the forthcoming lecture.

  Tarfan provided it nonetheless. “You could have been more cautious. You could have taken off with the elves when that overgrown troll stirred out of its nap, but we’d have lost the boy for sure, probably Fu Ran as well, and maybe the rest of us, if we’d been gathered around to help dig Tristus out of the snow when the giant came back.”

  “You didn’t expect me to leave the Dawn Blade buried, did you?” Xu Liang said quietly, detached as his thoughts drifted back to the accusations made against him in his dreams and those delivered by Alere while awake.

  “As I recall,” Tarfan said, speaking in slow, measured tones. “You were hopelessly unconscious long before the knight’s spear began its telltale glow. In fact, I’ve a suspicion you didn’t believe that weapon was the Dawn Blade at first, because it wasn’t glowing straight away.”

  “But it does now,” Xu Liang said, seeking confirmation of Tristus’ claim.

  “Yes,” the dwarf replied. “Lit our path through the shadows like...never mind that! My point is that you did what you did the other day to save a life! So don’t be putting on any acts about being too high and mighty to care about...”

  “Have I, Tarfan?” Xu Liang suddenly asked, the words catching unexpectedly in his exhausted and overly emotional state. “Have I treated all of you so poorly? Alere spoke the bare truth, as he always does. My concern has been only for the Swords.”

  “That elf—”

  “He speaks what he sees,” Xu Liang interrupted. “My Empress must come first. I would not change that, but I must treat allies and friends with respect and dignity, else I’ve no one to blame but myself for their leaving.”

  A brief silence filled the enormous chamber.

  “It’s not quite the same with individuals as it is with provinces or cities, or whatever you deal with in Sheng Fan, is it?” The dwarf sighed. “Still, I think you’re gaining a decent grasp of it. We’re all still here. We’re still with you, Xu Liang.”

  “For now, perhaps,” Xu Liang said softly. “I must speak with Tristus. I fear, in my unpleasant awakening, that I treated him very poorly and wish to make amends.”

  “Yes,” Tarfan said, in a stalling voice. “About the knight...”

  THE SPAN OF water that was named after the northern goddess Windra, turned out to be gray and cold, shrouded constantly beneath a turbid layer of clouds. For an Andarian Knight, a Phoenix Elf, and a Fanese guardsmen, gaining passage aboard a vessel had been no easy task. They managed by handing over a pouch of rare elven coins Shirisae had carried with her from Vilciel, to a gypsy collector of foreign coins, who happened also to be owner of a small ferry that usually catered only to fellow gypsies needing to move their troupes from one part of Yvaria to the other. The three passengers stuck close to one another and kept a watchful eye on their possessions as well as themselves and, none too soon, found themselves safely on the shores of Upper Yvaria.

  That had been three days ago, and so far neither Firestorm nor Dawnfire saw it fit to produce their magnificent light any brighter than they had since leaving Vilciel in each other’s company.

  Tristus sighed, forcing himself to study the map Tarfan had given him. He visually traced paths to the Verres Mountains, wishing he had the merest idea of how to think like Alere. The elf couldn’t be too far ahead of them; they hadn’t been separated for much more than a day—though Breigh was fast and would likely be familiar with the route her master had chosen. Still...

  Tristus groaned and rolled onto his back, away from the warm light of their campfire. He rubbed his weary eyes and tried not to listen to his mind’s misgivings. In his heart, he knew that what he was doing was right. Xu Liang was in no condition to seek Alere or the last Blade and, after Tarfan and Fu Ran had finally given him the details of the situation, Tristus fully understood the severity of the mystic’s quest. An evil was rising in Sheng Fan, radiating outward to every part of the world, stirring chaos…stirring the shadows.

  “You should sleep.”

  At the sound of the voice, which was simultaneously strong and gentle, Tristus turned his face back toward the fire, catching a glimpse of two flames. The Phoenix Elf was seated beside his bedroll, braiding her long red-orange hair after having let it down. Her fingers worked meticulously, restoring order to what she’d convinced herself had fallen wildly out of place during their days of travel. It amazed Tristus how beautiful she was, as exotic in her own fashion as Xu Liang, with her yellow-fair complexion and dark red lips. Tristus may not have had the same feelings as other men when in the company of such a woman, but he appreciated grace all the same.

  He caught himself reconsidering the thought as his memories drifted back to when he had first met Xu Liang. He’d awakened convinced that the fair creature hovering over him was a woman, and his reaction had been instant, helpless. If he’d not settled into full consciousness within the following moments, and realized that the mystic was actually an extremely handsome man, he believed that he still would be in the same blissful state of agony. He’d fallen in love on sight, and continued to fall, deeper than he’d ever fallen before. It wouldn’t matter to him if Xu Liang’s stunning grace had been nothing more than an illusion and a shriveled old man—or even a pit gnome—waited now in Vilciel. He was infatuated with the mystic’s presence, his intoxicating aura. It only made matters worse that Xu Liang happened to be beautiful as well.

  “I recognize that smile,” Shirisae suddenly said, and Tristus erased the wistful expression he didn’t know he was wearing. “It’s a smile of hope and longing, of wondering whether or not your heart’s pleas will be answered, or whether your heart will simply burst before it’s finished filling with the sweetest joy you’ve ever known.”

  Tristus smiled again, helplessly. “Yes, I do like being in love. It’s been so long, I’d forgotten how good it feels, even if it’s a hopeless love.”

  “Hopeless?” Shirisae echoed. “How do you know that it is?”

  Tristus looked at her, his expression fading again. He propped himself on his elbow. “Shall we be open, Shirisae? Must I speak with cryptic words and a guarded tone, or can we both admit that you know whom I love?”

  Shirisae stared at him for such a long time, and with such a peculiar gleam in her golden eyes, that Tristus began to worry she might actually have been innocent of where his affections lay and that his words might have sounded more directed at her as the object of those affections. That, in turn, made him feel conceited—to believe that such a highbred lady, who was also an elf, would even consider the possibility...

  “I know who holds your heart,” Shirisae finally said, looking at the ground as she tied off her braid. For a moment, it looked as if she might begin to cry, but then she lifted her chin indignantly and said, “I believe that a person such as that is the bearer of many hearts, all collected with the vanity and arrogance of a king who accepts donations into his treasury from starving peasants, all neglected as they lay sealed in a vault
from which there is no escape, until they grow dark and cold...and lifeless.”

  Tristus gaped in his surprise at hearing such an accounting of the person he respected as much as he adored. “Shirisae...my lady, you’re wrong. Please, do not say such a thing again.”

  “Am I wrong?” she replied, looking at him now, chilling him with her conviction in this matter. And then, her eyes softened with tears. She looked away, as if to keep Tristus from seeing them. “Forgive me. I know that I am wrong, that there is some hope in your heart’s quest. That only makes my own more difficult.”

  Tristus was beside himself, and about to ask her how she could possibly know such a thing, or what made her at least suspect that Xu Liang could possibly know a love beyond his empress and his homeland when the lady elf’s ending words struck him. They struck him speechless.

  Shirisae did not wait for him to recover himself. She stood and said simply, “I shall relieve Guang Ci and assume watch for the next few hours.”

  Tristus could only nod in response.

  THE NIGHT WENT sleepless. Tristus packed his gear and ate his meager breakfast mechanically. Several hours into their journey across boring plains carpeted with mist and gray grass, the silence became unbearable. The sporadic caws of ravens as they alighted upon the tendrils of dry wood sticking haphazardly out of the land’s shrubbery was beginning to sound like lively conversation against the grave lack of words exchanged among the three companions.

  Tristus guided Blue Crane alongside Shirisae’s black charger—she had been riding several paces ahead—and looked back at Guang Ci, whose attention was everywhere but on them. He recalled the language barrier after the fact.

  “Shirisae,” he finally said to the lady elf. “About our conversation during the night...I...”

  “There is nothing that you need to say,” Shirisae told him in her calm, proud fashion. “Firestorm led me to you, just as it led my mother to her life mate. The Phoenix has spoken, and though the words may seem a riddle, there is nothing to debate. It is difficult sometimes for even me to accept this.”

  Tristus didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to sound any of the words that came to mind. The last thing he wanted was to offend her. She’d saved Xu Liang’s life. Tristus would gladly give her his own life in return, but not in that way. Not as her lover or husband, or whatever she was implying.

  “The difficulty is not in knowing how your heart goes,” the lady elf continued without looking at him. “It is in waiting for it to come to me. I know that the Phoenix does not lie, but I did not expect these circumstances. They assail my faith and if I seem cold at times, please do not take it personally. It is only that I must be stronger now.”

  “Please,” Tristus said, almost before Shirisae had finished. “My lady, please, you must stop saying such things. It is hard enough, bearing the weight of my own heart. I cannot bear yours as well. Whatever your god has spoken to you, however you wish to interpret those words, you must believe me when I say that I cannot love you as you would have me. You have my heart in friendship, Shirisae, though I know it is scarcely enough to repay you for what you have done.”

  “Fate binds us,” the lady elf told him with numbing certitude. “You will come to me in time.” She was not wearing her helm this morning and so her smile dealt him the killing blow. Her next words ensured her victory. “You cannot tell me you have absolutely no faith in the Phoenix. It is the Flame of my god that kept your hope alive.” And then she trotted ahead, unaware of or unconcerned with the tears she’d brought to her companion’s eyes.

  Tristus tried to remind himself of what Taya said about elves having a tendency to speak their minds openly and without truly intending malice, but the hurt was great. Xu Liang would have died without the intervention of both Shirisae and her god; that much was true. Tristus’ hope would have died that day in the snow, just as he realized the nature of that hope. He would have regretted not recognizing his feelings for the mystic for many long years afterward. Even a love that could not be answered was a love worth knowing. The world was cold and bitter enough. Finding Xu Liang had been as miraculous as receiving Dawnfire and meeting the angel. It had had the same effect on Tristus, casting light upon him and filling him with warmth to keep the memories of the darker world behind him at bay. Even if he were to never see Xu Liang again, he felt blessed just knowing that the man existed, that somewhere in the world his light was shining. He loved him enough to let him go, and at the same time he loved him far too much to ever love another, even though, under these circumstances, that other had enabled his love to be fully realized.

  The obligation and guilt Shirisae was either knowingly or inadvertently placing upon him was devastating, enough to make the black memories of his recent past surface. Tristus feared what might come of that and had no choice but to shut his feelings away. All that matters right now, is finding Alere, Tristus told himself.

  “STOP! PLEASE, I can’t take anymore. I can’t feel my feet. My fingers are numb. I know you can hear me! I know you’re listening. This is inhumane!”

  Alere drew Breigh to a halt, his hand tightening about her bridle. He set his teeth together, needled by the human’s incessant whining. He might have been able to go on ignoring Bastien Crowe, except that something he said finally struck true.

  “You’re right,” Alere said. “This is inhumane. Breigh has no more love for you than I.”

  He walked back to the gypsy, whose hands were bound behind his back and whose ankles were connected by a span of rope stretched beneath the mare. He cut the bindings with his dagger and hauled his prisoner out of the saddle, dropping him unceremoniously onto the snow-covered forest floor.

  Bastien sprawled on the ground, righting himself slowly. Too slowly.

  When he suddenly lunged at Alere, Alere struck him back to the ground.

  The man was stiff and weak from his method of travel, and from his frustration. The injury Aerkiren had dealt him, which was now crudely, but efficiently dressed was not helping his state.

  Bastien maneuvered onto his hands and knees, breathing hard, spitting blood onto the snow. “Damn you, elf! Get it over with! I know you’re going to kill me!”

  “Perhaps, when it becomes necessary,” Alere replied calmly. “For now, I am in need of someone to confirm this location.”

  Bastien glared at him, then gave a quick glance about the woods surrounding them. The trees were darkwoods, their bark almost black. The deep green needles were sharp, more like barbs, capable of not only scratching the unwary traveler, but poisoning as well, it was said. The trees were so thick in number that the only safe way to traverse the forest was to walk.

  Bastien’s lips curled upward as he finally seemed to recognize his surroundings. “This is the Deepwood. An elf of the Verres Mountains needed a gypsy to tell him that? I find that hard to believe.”

  “I would too, if that were the case,” Alere said. “I know these woods, human, but I do not recall any clear routes through them, and this map is difficult to follow.”

  He reached for a rolled parchment tucked into his belt and tossed it onto the ground in front of the gypsy.

  Bastien clearly recognized it, but he did not reach for it. Instead, he grinned insolently at his captor. “A thief as well? Riffled through my pockets while I was out, did you? Anything else I should know about?”

  Alere ignored his comments. “Who is Malek Vorhaven?”

  Bastien lifted his hand to his jaw, slowly wiping away the blood. “Why should I tell you a damned thing?”

  “You will speak, gypsy, because you believe words will spare your life. You are a fanatic, Brother of the Balance, but you are far from noble enough to die for your cause, if you don’t have to.” Alere drew Aerkiren and extended the blade, point first, toward Bastien. “You don’t have to die, but I will kill you if I must.”

  Bastien stared at him, as if contemplating just how serious Alere might have been. In a moment, he’d come to his decision and lowered his hand. He
said begrudgingly, “Malek Vorhaven is one of the scholars I spoke to you about. His residence is marked on the map, but it’s not so easy to find as it looks. There’s a spell of confusion on the map. That you followed it this far speaks well for your resolve.”

  “You are not a sorcerer,” Alere guessed easily.

  Bastien shook his head. “Vorhaven laid the enchantment. I discovered that weeks ago, but I held onto it anyway, hoping that what sense I could make of it, coupled with my memory, might lead me back to his mansion. He’s a very clever man. Offering the map was just a gesture, a trick to lull us into a false sense of security after we entrusted him with...”

  The gypsy stopped, deliberately.

  Alere’s eyes narrowed. “Am I to take it that Vorhaven betrayed the Brotherhood?”

  The gypsy nodded slowly. “That was originally why I came back to Yvaria. It took me damned near a year to convince my captain to make the journey. Fu Ran’s sorcerer friend and his quest was an uncanny coincidence. I decided to investigate while on my way to Upper Yvaria.”

  “It was your idea to warn Xu Liang of the bandits from his homeland?”

  “No,” Bastien admitted. “But it proved an extraordinarily convenient suggestion on Fu Ran’s part. My captain agreed, almost too easily, and even asked me if I would accompany Fu Ran, since Yvaria happens to be my homeland. Neither of them knew I’d been plotting how I might be able to go ashore for an extended period without actually resigning.”

  “Your order doesn’t arrange these matters for you?” Alere asked him, lowering Aerkiren.

  “The Brotherhood gives us a mission. From then we’re on our own for a specified period of time. If we don’t report back, someone else investigates.”

  Alere didn’t take his eyes off the gypsy for a moment, even though the man was unarmed. He continued his interrogation. “And your task is to assassinate this Vorhaven?”