Six Celestial Swords (37 page)

“WHAT IN THE infernal regions is going on out there?” Fu Ran wanted to know.

Xu Liang held his hand up to silence the former guard, then said, “‘You will come with us, child of death.’. Orphan, I think the term means. ‘You do not command me, girl.’: These are Alere’s diplomatic words. The response is, ‘We do not?’.”

“You can hear them?” Taya asked wonderingly. “How?”

“I don’t hear anything,” Tarfan grumbled. “Must be more magic.”

“It seems Alere was right,” Xu Liang said next. “They want us to go with them somewhere. Since the male Phoenix Elf is waving his sword about in the negotiating, I do not suspect that their motives are entirely peaceful.”

“You mean this isn’t just a friendly greeting with an invitation to the nearest ale house,” Tarfan blurted flatly. “What should we do?”

Fu Ran was wrapping his enchanted tassel around the hilt of his two-handed sword. He hadn’t tried the enchantment since the elf negated its effect with his own magic blade, but he didn’t believe the damage to be permanent. The Aeran wizard who’d put the enchantment in place may have been a bit of an eccentric, but he knew his craft better than most. He conjured enchantments to last. Besides, the elf had taken the enchantment away from the sword, not the tassel itself. Fu Ran hoped his logic would hold later.

“This will not make Alere happy,” Xu Liang said. “But we must surrender, for now.”

“What?” Fu Ran was shocked by this unheard of decision from the mystic. “Why?”

Xu Liang lifted the scabbard tucked into his belt, and just slipped
Pearl Moon
from its encasement. With his eyes lingering on the soft glow Mei Qiao’s sword emitted, he said, “Because the female carries a Celestial Blade.”

THIS IS MADNESS,
Tristus thought.
It’s going to take a miracle to keep these elves from killing each other.

And it was just at that moment that a miracle was delivered. Nothing from God above, but something just as breathtaking. As if the moon had come out of hiding, full and lustrous, a silvery blue light was cast over the open land from a source not in the sky, but behind Tristus and Alere. It had come from the beautiful sword worn by Xu Liang. The mystic held it up as a torch, speaking to the elves without words.

Two of the elves answered, though not necessarily willingly. Alere’s slim blade began faintly to hum, the elvish characters emblazoned upon the metal gleaming brightly enough to illuminate both him and Breigh in the darkness. Opposite the white elf on his white horse, the elf woman, clad all in black, mounted upon a horse as dark, lifted her spear in amaze. Her companion looked on with equal wonder as the bright blade radiated with crackling beams of silver light.

“It’s never done this before,” the woman said.

“And it isn’t likely to again!” Alere growled and—well before anyone could consider stopping him—he charged the other elf.

The female raised her spear to defend herself. The blades struck, and there came a sudden boom, like Heaven splitting. Alere and the woman were thrown from their mounts, without their blades. A great wave of energy that even began to unnerve Blue Crane undulated outward from the weapons that were stuck fast. The blades defied the pull of the earth, locked in a strange and terrible struggle.

The air itself seemed to wail in the stress generated by the swords.

Tristus, scarcely able to hear his own thoughts, was about to head for Alere, who still lay on the ground in his shock, when a voice suddenly rang above the drone of magic.

They cannot leave us! Not now!

Tristus found himself looking at the blades again, squinting against the tremendous light. Somehow it looked as if the weapons were rising, being drawn higher into the sky. He had no idea what to make of that and even less idea of what to do about it, but his body seemed to require no instruction from his mind. He angled Blue Crane in the direction of the hovering blades and rode toward the wall of magic.

AS FAST AS he was flung, the fervor drained out of Alere. He rose to his feet, cradling his hand—every nerve in it seemed dead—and watched with alarm as the blades sang an unearthly dirge, rising slowly back to the heavens from whence they’d come. What had he done? He’d acted out of foolish pride and anger, and had the sword of his ancestors revoked. Before his eyes
Aerkiren
was dying, joining with the sky of its creation.

And there was the knight. Foolish human.
How can you hope to defy the will of the gods? Let the blades alone. It is no longer in our hands.

Of course, Tristus did not hear his thoughts and, out of some elusive concept of bravery that Alere often took for stupidity, the knight summoned the determination that would ultimately awaken the fury within him. Only a god could contend with gods, and Ilnon shied from no challenge. The presence of rage and vengeance would be Tristus’ only defense against powers that would otherwise destroy him and that may destroy him still.

Alere’s shame came suddenly, and crushed him inside. He ran to Breigh and, disregarding his numbed hand, he swung into her saddle and commanded her toward the fierce power that could well be the end of them both.

XU LIANG SEEMED to be handling their apparent crisis a little too calmly for Tarfan’s comfort. The dwarf watched the man in prayer and understood the motions, but somehow he didn’t think any amount of begging was going to make whatever powers were involved listen. The elf had ruined everything, brought the Celestial Swords—godly weapons of order—against each other. This was the beginning of the end. If chaos was rising in Dryth, with the power of the gods broken, what would defend them?

“What’s he doing?” Taya suddenly squealed, pointing across the open landscape at the knight riding to his doom. “Tristus! He’s going to get killed!”

“Foolish pup,” Tarfan mumbled, and didn’t feel it in him to argue with her, knowing that she was probably right.

TRISTUS WAS DEAFENED by the horrid sound of the wall of magic. He felt sick with the immense power it generated, but somehow he was not afraid. His eyes were on the Blades, never leaving them, even though the tremendous light burned his vision. He began to feel weaker, the nearer he arrived to the Blades, feeling the awesome strength of angry forces. Those same forces were speaking to him, telling him he could not have the Blades and to stay back lest he be killed. Somehow, knowing only that he could not let them go, he defied those voices and their power. He felt no fear, only anger, frustration that mounted rapidly, driving his determination to have what was not meant to be his. He would have them, and he would destroy anyone and anything that tried to stop him!

It was that one burning thought that made Tristus aware of what was happening. He was aware, but he was also helpless, as he always had been. In a moment, he would be blind, lost deep within himself, and he would wake in a sea of blood. The blood of enemies, the blood of friends…the blood of anything that had blood to be spilled. A fierce dread filled his heart and pumped his own blood faster, giving power to the engine of destruction that came to life within him.

No! I promised…

But he had to have those blades!

Blue Crane brought him to the wailing wall and Tristus let go the reins, reaching up, stretching for the Blades. He knew what would happen once he had them. The darkness of his past rolled up to meet the dark moments ahead of him. One hand closed on the hilt of
Aerkiren
. The other wrapped about the shaft of the second Blade.

God, forgive me.

His arms up to his elbows were needled with hundreds of tiny unseen agonies, but he did not withdraw. He began to pull against the forces gripping the Blades and soon felt nothing, save for his rage. Darkness assailed him. Savage images of death danced obscenely before his mind’s eye. He pulled the Blades faster, determined to have their power and with them, reenact the violent imagery and to be alone again, at last free from the inevitable treachery that awaited him, to finally have revenge against the wrongs already done to him. There would be no escape this time. Not for any of them!

He gave one last, powerful tug, using all the strength available to him and finally, the opposing forces relinquished their hold. Tristus tore the Blades apart from each other, shredding the wall of light, casting the remains to the opposite ends of the world as he spread his arms apart. The magic dissipated on its way to the horizons, leaving Tristus with two glowing weapons and a desperate need to still the bodies around him, all of them moving against him.
Betrayers! Murderers! He would kill them first. All of them!

The horse beneath him reared suddenly, toppling him into the snow, deciding for him that it would be first to die. He landed heavy on the cold earth, his breath gone and forgotten. He had to get up. He had to kill!

Tristus began to rise, alarmed and angry that someone dared stop him—that they could stop him—by placing their hands on his shoulders and pushing him back. He glared up at a ghost, seeing the night sky through its transparent, luminous structure…and immediately argued that he could be pinned beneath such an insubstantial form by again trying to rise. He failed once more, and started to writhe, sure somehow that the specter’s cold touch was beginning to burn him.

“No,” the spirit said softly, in the gentle tones of the more cunning betrayer. “You will not rise, Fury. I will not let you.”

Do not call me by that name! Get off of me! Spare yourself one final breath, for that is as long as it will take me to rise and to cut you into—

“No. I shall not rise and neither shall you. I shall hold you here, eternally, if I must. The world will see its end and fall around us before you will rise to do harm again.”

You are no match for me, spirit! You cannot last that long and I am eternal!

“We will see how long I can last. Release him and I will consider leaving.”

You are in no position to bargain! He will have his revenge!

“It is not his revenge, but yours. Release him, else I will take you with me, into a vessel that would shatter as you tried to claim your first victim with it.”

Be careful what you offer! I would take it and give it strength, no matter how weak.