by T. A. Miles
Shirisae added the Storm Blade, whose crackling silver light reached eagerly for the gold-glowing spear beside it. Lastly, Alere presented his beloved Aerkiren, deigning to part with it by placing it upon the floor next to the aptly named Behel. Again the amount of light produced by the weapons was increased, confirming their relation.
Xu Liang waited for the others to be seated, forming a half circle before the Swords. Then he drew Pearl Moon from the scabbard tucked into his sash and lowered it slowly over the others. He watched the pale blue light rise and then drift off the slender blade like a fine, glowing mist, adding to the amalgamation of colors forming above the other Swords. It was fascinating to watch, but nothing spectacular. That would come, in time. For now, Xu Liang lowered to his knees and lay Pearl Moon down beside the others, noting to himself that one Blade was still missing—the Sun Blade—presumably still in possession of the Empress.
Xu Liang looked at the people huddled before him, regarding each of them separately but also equally. They waited patiently and eagerly, nervously as well as resignedly. Some of them were hopeful, others dubious or apprehensive. Whatever their concerns about the Swords and their capabilities, each of them believed that their coming together meant something, and that the man before them knew what. Xu Liang hoped that he would not disappoint them with his explanation.
“Regardless,” he began, “of your past lives or your current beliefs, all of you have been summoned here by a single source, for a single purpose. It is not a task that can be forced upon you, but one which you must take up of your own free will with the understanding that you act not for yourself, but for the benefit of this world and all who would live peacefully upon it.
“This duty is not something that can be granted. It must be felt. Once felt—once accepted—it is nothing that can be abandoned without great consequence to the others involved. Here is where selfishness must end, where reliance begins, and where trust must be paramount. There can be no discord. No rebellion. Each must accept his or her own role with a willing soul and an open heart. Once entered into this bond, we must leave all others behind us, and treat this new union with absolute priority.”
Xu Liang paused a moment, to be sure Fu Ran had time to speak the translation to Guang Ci. When he heard the large man’s whispered echo cease, he continued. “There can be no glory in this task, for it is not a quest for personal gain or satisfaction. What those of us who continue on must do will seem at times mundane and at other times trying, even arduous and excruciating. Peace will come with success, though we may not recognize it once it is achieved. For the World will carry on, just as it ever has, but there will be less suffering, less despair, less darkness at the hands of evil forces that would seek to control us and to control our destinies. We will have restored a peace that most individuals go their entire lives scarcely aware of. A period of order will come to nature. The changes might seem subtle to us, but for those who can look beyond the physical world, knowledge will be granted. The knowledge that the Master, currently weakened by the constant struggle to contain Chaos, is well and at rest.
“When I speak of the Master, I refer to the world. When I speak of Chaos, I refer to the Dragon, which we have been asked to face by forces higher than ourselves. Already each of us has fought against this beast and realized victory, as well as defeat. We battle it now while we struggle within ourselves, wondering whether or not it is safe, or wise, or perhaps even right to go on to the next battle. That battle lies in Sheng Fan, farther from some of your homes than you have ever dared to travel, even in your dreams.”
Xu Liang waited, allowing a lengthy period of silence, for all that he had said to be absorbed by his audience. Finally, he took up Pearl Moon and stood. He extended the Moon Blade outward, casting a veil of blue light over the people before him. And then he said, “I accept this calling. I place my life in the Heavens and offer my full trust and loyalty to those who would take this journey with me.”
Silence filled the chamber as the darkness of eventide crept indoors. Pearl Moon glowed brilliantly in the gray air, but the Sword glowed alone. Even Guang Ci hesitated, perhaps unsure in this proposal of allegiance that seemed to contradict his sworn duty as servant to an Imperial Officer.
When the guard appeared to have sorted everything out in his mind, he stood and approached the Swords lying in front of Xu Liang. The younger Fanese man knelt down in a habitual display of respect, then slowly lifted the Night Blade and stood. He held the black sword out, so that the blade—now radiating with a strange, dark energy—touched the paler metal of the Moon Blade. It was not an act of aggression, but one of loyalty and trust, thus the Swords accepted the contact.
“Let us fight together on the battlefield, Lord Xu Liang,” Guang Ci said in Fanese.
Xu Liang replied in his native tongue. “You honor me, Guang Ci. I know that I can expect great things.”
The light between them grew suddenly stronger, blossoming with a lavish violet radiance. Xu Liang was quietly shocked, looking at Alere—who now stood beside Guang Ci—suddenly enough to reveal that shock through his calm expression. The elf’s face was placid, completely unrevealing. Anything he might have said was held back by the arrival of the next Sword—Shirisae’s Firestorm, whose energetic strands of light caressed and wound about its sibling Blades.
“This weapon was a gift to my people,” the lady elf said. “I will repay the trust and generosity of the forces who bestowed it upon us with my life.”
Most unexpectedly, Shirisae’s joining left only Tristus to decide. The knight sat quietly on his knees, his hands clasped together and his head bowed. He seemed to be...praying? When he was finished, he touched his brow with his fingertips, then his lips, and finally his armor, over his heart. He sat back upon completing the ritual and stared long at the Dawn Blade. Too many emotions passed over his gentle features for Xu Liang to begin to guess what was going through his mind.
Then the knight stood slowly. He came forward, retrieved the brilliant spear, and simply held it. “God, let me be worthy of this task,” he whispered, then gently delivered the Blade to its siblings.
The golden light ignited the others, shooting beams of multicolored energy throughout the vast chamber. The power that radiated from the united weapons was magnificent, and Xu Liang could only imagine what it might feel and look like with the Spear of Heaven to add to the effect. For the first time since his journey had begun, he felt as if he would witness it. The Blades would be united. It had been decided.
AHJENTA APPROVED OF her daughter’s decision—even though her son did not—and decided to see the companions off well. She held a banquet in their honor, and to bless their departure. Music and lively conversation filled a grand hall that was fit for dragons and made functional for elves. Round tables dotted the vast floor, each one buried beneath mounds of unique elvish food that even Guang Ci found enticing. In particular, the guard seemed interested in a dish that consisted of layers of a tender white meat upon a bed of what seemed dark rice, though none of them could be certain, since they’d seen no land suitable for cultivation on any of the mountaintops of Vilciel. The spices were more potent than any of them expected, but it appeared they were to be tolerated in exchange for a texture that reminded them at least somewhat of home.
The Phoenix Elves had no fish, but they did have a curious recipe for noodles boiled in a thick and slightly sweet broth, which Xu Liang was willing to sample modestly. It would be the first truly solid food he’d eaten since coming out of fasting, so he decided to be cautious about how much he took in. He wondered for a moment how he might take it in at all—the bowl was too large to comfortably drink from and Guang Ci’s decision to eat with his fingers seemed to be drawing the wrong kind of attention for a polite dinner occasion. Xu Liang eventually made the diplomatic choice and struggled with the peculiar elven utensils.
Fu Ran and Tarfan sat beside one another, each taking in their meal with alarming haste, as if in competition. Xu Liang would have guess
ed Fu Ran the natural victor in such a challenge, but Tarfan seemed to have an unnaturally large stomach for such a small individual.
“Are you boys tasting any of that?” Taya asked them.
Tarfan threw back a large gulp of elvish ale and promptly belched. “There’s the flavor!”
“That’s disgusting,” the dwarf maiden said flatly.
Xu Liang agreed in silence, and noticed that he was not the only one at their table with nothing to say. He looked at Tristus, no longer able to justify the anger he’d felt toward him during the long days of awaiting his return to Vilciel. He had done what Xu Liang physically—and perhaps even mentally at the time—could not have done. He retrieved the final Sword and managed to bring back Alere, whom Xu Liang would have been inclined to let go. As to other concerns, Xu Liang would confront them when it became necessary...if it became necessary.
“You’re not eating?” he said to the knight.
Tristus looked at his plate, utterly disinterested, and showed nothing of a smile or any pleasant expression whatsoever when he lifted his gaze to look at Xu Liang. That was unlike him. Even if Tristus felt miserable, he always seemed to make an effort not to spread his misery to others, however useless those efforts tended to be. Now, however, he didn’t even try.
“Excuse me,” was all the knight said before leaving the table.
Other than Xu Liang, only Taya noticed—neither Alere nor Shirisae were even present at this particular table—and the young dwarf was about to go after him until Xu Liang stopped her. He touched her hand lightly, managing to summon her attention without having to shout over the combined volumes of music and chatter.
When she looked at him, he stood and said, “I will go.”
TRISTUS STOOD IN the chill night air upon one of the smaller balconies that had been carved out of the vast stone walls by the elves and stared out across the grand city. It was lit with perpetual fires in many places, which the magic inherited by the previous inhabitants permitted. It was beautiful and frightening all at once, to think that such a marvelous place had been built by dragons, or at least for dragons.
Tristus still wished he could have found Eris. A city built for angels must have been something even more fantastic. He wondered why he stopped looking, why he ventured so far north to begin with.
You were scared. Not wandering, but running, like a...
“Something is troubling you,” a familiar voice said, halting Tristus’ thought before it finished.
Tristus didn’t look back at Xu Liang, afraid to face him, still expecting retribution or at least reprimand. He didn’t know why he should question the mystic’s ability to forgive now, after worshipping him as a compassionate being before. Perhaps it had something to do with his own dishonesty. If Alere could be so brave, why couldn’t he?
He’d been bold in the past when he needed to be, or just wanted to be. Why should he be so intimidated by Xu Liang?
Glumly, he answered his own question. Because you know he’ll reject you. He has his empress and you...you could have your pick of two very beautiful elves, but you stubbornly insist on the unobtainable. And because you’ve already chosen, you could never go to the preferred elf, even if you survived the inevitable rejection from Xu Liang and were inclined to do so. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Your heart would still long for what it couldn’t have, and what a terrible first relationship that would be for Alere; one that was untrue.
Tristus wasn’t terribly worried about Shirisae. She was strong. He felt that she could survive anything, and come away even stronger than before.
“I don’t belong with the rest of you,” he finally said. “I’m an exiled knight, running from my past, which is so much worse than any of you will ever know. What you saw...it was nothing in comparison to what I’ve done before. I... want to be with you—all of you.” His face flushed as the words seem to come out of their own volition—and wrong—and he kept his gaze on the city, struggling to finish his statement. “I’m just...having difficulty convincing myself that I have a right to.”
“And your weaknesses that you would make strengths?” Xu Liang reminded.
“It’s not working,” Tristus was ashamed to admit. “You mustn’t think that I don’t want to change. I do...”
“Perhaps you do not need to change,” Xu Liang suggested. “At least, not so drastically as you would attempt to. To strive to better oneself is natural and expected. To abandon oneself in an effort to attain a new self is foolish and unhealthy. For example, in your attempt to escape your misery by refusing to acknowledge it, you have only managed to consistently dwell on it and have made yourself even more miserable.”
“You’re right about that,” Tristus sighed. “But I haven’t been completely honest with you. My past isn’t all that’s troubling me. In fact, the only reason I’ve considered it tonight is because it brought me here, to...” He struggled for an instant with his courage, then threw himself upon the truth, as he might his own sword in a ritual attempt at suicide. “To you.”
Strangely, Xu Liang had nothing to say. Perhaps he was uncertain as to precisely what was being said to him.
Tristus glanced back at him, but was unable to meet his gaze. He saw that the mystic’s mouth formed a small frown and his heart slowed to a meandering plod, like an old man’s as he lay upon his deathbed, awaiting the inevitable.
“Xu Liang...”
“Say nothing more,” the mystic interrupted quietly.
“Why?” Tristus had to ask. Fearing that he already knew the answer, he didn’t wait for it. He suddenly knew nothing of fear, thinking only that he loved the individual before him, deeply. “How long must I select my words to you with caution? How long must I steal glimpses of you, because I’m afraid to be caught gazing? I only want you to know how I feel.”
“How you feel does not have to be spoken,” Xu Liang replied, still quietly. Neither his words nor his tone revealed anything as to how he might feel himself, not one way or the other. “However, it is not only my awareness that concerns you, Tristus Edainien. I know what you would seek from me...and it is something I am not capable of granting.”
Tristus’ heart broke instantaneously, far too quickly for tears to even form. He felt stunned and weak, and sought the balcony railing for support. Even expecting rejection, he could never have been truly braced for it. It hurt, like Hell itself. With a few simple words a dream was shattered, utterly destroyed—and he could already envision himself scrambling to collect the fragments, as if he had no dignity at all.
Xu Liang mistook his silence for confusion. “I am indebted to you, Tristus, for all that you have done, but I cannot return your—”
“I heard you,” Tristus said quickly. “Please, don’t embarrass me any further by sounding it out.”
“Forgive me,” Xu Liang said.
Tristus felt his blood rushing beneath his skin, his heart pounding mercilessly with pain, and with love that couldn’t be quashed as easily as his hope.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he muttered, and turned from the railing, doing all in his power to avoid so much as glancing at Xu Liang while he left the balcony.
He walked quickly through the grand dining hall, leaving the banquet without a word to any of the others, determined not to stop until he reached the guest suites. He made it halfway up the first stairwell before he collapsed in a heap of misery, curses, and tears.
TAYA WAS BEGINNING to wonder what was taking Xu Liang and Tristus so long. Fu Ran and her uncle were rapidly becoming more irritating than humorous with their quaffing and gorging, and belching. She was growing so desperate for dignified company that she even welcomed the sight of Shirisae—beautiful and perfect as she happened to be in her long, flowing black gown with her flame-colored hair cascading down her back.
The daughter of the elven priestess sat down in Xu Liang’s seat, perching on the edge as if she didn’t plan to stay. A glance obviously told her that attempting to speak to either Fu Ran or Tarfan would be a wast
e of time, and so she asked Taya, “Have you seen Tristus?”
Taya mustered a quick smile over her automatic frown. “Not for a little while,” she answered, wondering if she looked as jealous as she felt. And then she stupidly asked, “Why?”
Shirisae sat back and sighed, apparently without noticing the tone of Taya’s interest. “I haven’t seen him since the banquet started. He looked a bit glum. I thought maybe I could help cheer him up.”
“No thanks,” Taya said, then bit her tongue and quickly added, “We’ve already got plenty of help in that area. Uh...Xu Liang just went to see if he’s all right, in fact.”
Shirisae rolled her golden eyes toward the ceiling, her red lips frowning. “I think that Xu Liang’s attention is the last thing he needs.”
Now Taya was curious, instead of simply jealous. “What do you mean?”
The lady elf glanced at Taya, then smiled too quickly. “Please don’t take me wrong. I have the utmost respect for him. I just think that sometimes he can be a little...cold.”
“Xu Liang?” Taya inquired, to be certain. Shirisae gave no indication, right or wrong, so Taya was forced to assume. Assuming that she was right, she lifted her chin haughtily and said, “He does have a lot on his mind, you know. I think it’s understandable that he’s a little detached after he nearly learned what it was to be on the stomped end of stomping a bug.”
Shirisae, whose mind had clearly gone elsewhere, looked at Taya suddenly. “What about bugs?”
Taya sighed irritably. “The giant. Remember? It almost killed him.”
“Oh,” Shirisae responded, then waved the subject away with her hand, looking around the banquet hall, obviously for someone specific.