Six Celestial Swords (53 page)

VILCIEL. A CITY built for dragons, occupied by people who worshipped a bird of flame, a god capable of granting new life...and old pain.

Xu Liang looked out over the city surrounded by clouds and near mountain peaks, and wondered when he had ever seen a sight so beautiful and yet so terrible to behold. To him, it was as a prison mounted on top of the very world. Even if he escaped it physically, he would remember it always, and he would forever feel trapped by it. Even as he felt the chill of the mountain air biting into his flesh, his soul was on fire and his heart burned from within while the fire resurrected a thousand memories of heaven that served as gateways into hell.

“What have you done to me?”

Upon being addressed, the priestess stopped her silent advance. “Your health recovers,” she said tonelessly. “And with it, your power renews.”

“It may never be as focused as it was, but it has never left me,” Xu Liang replied. “A path chosen by the ancestors is not easily abandoned or strayed from.”

“We believe our ancestors choose our paths for us as well,” Ahjenta said.

“A path of fire,” Xu Liang murmured, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his own silk robes, that had been returned to him days ago. He’d only recently recovered the strength to carry himself from the bed of nightmares, as he’d come to refer to it. He hadn’t expected the nightmares to follow him across the vast chamber. He asked again, “What have you done to me?”

Ahjenta waited before giving her answer. “I called upon the Phoenix to restore you, against my better judgment, but at the pleading of my daughter and of my own heart as I witnessed the desperation of your companions.”

Xu Liang wouldn’t hear the latter half of her statement. A frown formed on his lips, and he said, “I made my choice. My time had come. What you have done has prevented nothing, but only prolonged my suffering and delayed the inevitable. I will not last.”

“Your constitution is not strong,” Ahjenta admitted.

“It has not been, from the day of my birth. Magic cannot improve my state, but only lend me strength enough to make my journeys. Your Flame will enable me to finish this one, but I may never make another.”

“You will return to your homeland,” the priestess offered. “Is that not what you wanted? It must be, for the Phoenix cannot restore one who is not willing to be restored.”

Xu Liang thought of his Empress, recalling her suddenly as a small child in the arms of her brother, who had worshipped her without ever dreaming that she would become the ruler of Sheng Fan. The burning inside of him flared, raising too many emotions. Hot tears welled in his eyes, stinging his vision.
Have my efforts truly been for Sheng Fan? Or have I labored all this time for you, Song Lu...my Prince?

The idea was unbearable. To act in selfishness could only result in ruin, and perhaps here was the evidence that he had been acting for himself rather than for the benefit of the land. He had lost contact with the Empress, the Swords had strayed apart once again, and in spite of any magic he may never see his homeland again.

“Your time has not come,” Ahjenta finally said, almost gently. “You may not last to see your beauty spoiled, but there are still many days ahead of you. Many long days, trying days, of course...but some pleasant days as well.”

“You are an oracle as well?” Xu Liang asked dryly, refusing to be moved in his current state of angst.

“I have lived for many hundreds of years,
shandon
, mystic of the East. I know dejection from dying, and I know how easily many mortals—even the wisest of them—succumb to it. I offer you this advice; do not fear the memories that haunt you now, for they are things you have already seen and events you have already overcome. The future lies ahead of you, and you are one who can greatly affect it.”

Xu Liang turned to look at her, amazed by the elf’s concern.

The priestess showed no warmth openly, other than the color of her hair, but there seemed some compassion in her golden eyes. “In the war against the shadows, most are taken by darkness, one way or another. Those who shine above it act as beacons to those still fighting, a guide and a source of hope in these chaotic times. The knowledge you have brought to us seems to have solved the mystery of the Great Awakening, prophesied long ago. We know now that it is a thing to be feared, not revered. But we will not fear it, knowing that there are others in this war with us, one such as yourself, prepared to combat the source of the shadows that have been invading our lands for centuries, when it finally rises.”

“You...believe in the Dragon?” Xu Liang asked, wondering who had related the story to her. He decided quickly that it was probably Tarfan.

“I believe that all forces in this world have a master and that—like the Phoenix, who commands the Flame of Resurrection—perhaps this dragon rules the Shadows of Confusion. The shadows rose first, to scatter and divide us, to break our will, so that when their master rises, it will only require a single, killing blow.”

Xu Liang was fascinated by this theory, and he listened to the priestess with renewed interest. “Morale is often the deciding factor in a battle,” he agreed. “And perhaps that is what the Swords represent; unification against our foe. Madam,” he started to say, but Ahjenta did not let him finish.

“My daughter, as the future leader of our people, will make the right decision,” she said and added softly, “In all things. I must believe that.”

“And it would seem, then, that I must rely on it,” Xu Liang replied. “I will pray for her safe return.” He put his hands together and bowed to the priestess. “And I would thank you, Madame Ahjenta, for your wise words.”

“I’ve been told it was prayer that put you into this state. Continue resting and recover your strength. The Phoenix will guide my daughter and your friends.” On those words, the priestess left him, greeting Fu Ran politely as the large man made his way across the chamber.

“Taya said for you to stay in bed,” the former guard reminded, but Xu Liang was far from hearing him, his gaze once again on the view of Vilciel from a dragon-sized window ledge.

“It would seem that we have gained the trust and support of these people,” Xu Liang said. “When Shirisae returns, I will convince her to accompany me back to Sheng Fan.”

“Tarfan gave Tristus explicit instructions not to take longer than two weeks,” Fu Ran informed. “He and Taya figured that would be about as long as you would allow yourself to be stuck in bed.”

“The knight has as long as he is inclined to take,” Xu Liang replied, his eyes narrowing involuntarily.

“What do you mean?”

“By stealing Blue Crane, and taking the Dawn Blade, which I know he will surrender if I ask it of him, he has effectively chained me to this mountain,” Xu Liang explained, maintaining a neutral voice, though it aggravated him to consider the knight’s snake-like tactics. “I would trust no other animal to carry me on my journey and, knowing that the Dawn Blade is within my grasp, I will not leave it behind.”

“He needed
Dawnfire
to help him search for Alere,” Fu Ran said, a little too defensively for Xu Liang’s appreciation.

“
Dawnfire
is not like the other Blades,” Xu Liang said. “It does not always glow simply because it is in the company of the others, and
Firestorm
alone would have sufficed for their search.”

Typically, Fu Ran argued. “What are you saying, then? You were willing to leave
Firestorm
behind? And what about
Aerkiren
, and the Night Blade?”

Calmly, Xu Liang said, “It was my plan to take a northern route to the coast of Upper Yvaria, to the Sea of Ice, which connects with Aer. It is possible that we would have been able to contribute to the search en route to Sheng Fan, where the Empress herself may be very ill. Now, because Tristus Edainien has taken matters into his own hands and corrupted Guang Ci into his irrational way of thinking, we can do nothing but wait.”

“Corrupted?” Fu Ran stomped to the edge of the enormous archway and then turned back, forcing himself into Xu Liang’s view. “Guang Ci made the decision himself. It wasn’t asked of him, certainly not by Tristus. The boy was going to go alone. He didn’t even know Shirisae planned to join him. None of us did until...”

“The knight is not a child, Fu Ran,” Xu Liang pointed out. “It does not assist him or his position in any way for you and Tarfan to continually plead his youth and therefore his innocence. It is not innocence that enables him. He is motivated by…”

Xu Liang stopped himself short of revealing his suspicions about Tristus.

Fu Ran didn’t give him a chance to change the subject.

“By what?” the former guard pressed. However, he didn’t wait for an answer, incensed by the same past tension that was also surfacing anew within Xu Liang as well. “Tristus has his problems, but so does everyone. He’s been nothing but faithful to us since we found him half buried in the snow and, if you’ll recall, it wasn’t him that abandoned us, but that shifty white elf. Alere left while the rest of us waited anxiously to celebrate your survival, or mourn your death! In fact, all of us were convinced that you were dead, except for Tristus! He was the only one of us who had even a shred of hope left when we got here—and that includes your damned bodyguards!”

Xu Liang did his best to ignore the larger man’s rising voice and scathing words. He said simply, “I am not inclined to discuss this with you any further. You may leave.”

“May I?” The giant grinned obscenely and performed a mocking bow, which made Xu Liang frown irritably. Fu Ran straightened, glowering. “Oh, I remember now. I don’t serve you anymore, so I guess you can’t dismiss me. I guess you’ll have to hear an opinion, other than your own for a change!”

Xu Liang closed his eyes and drew in a breath, determined to ignore him. He would not be drawn into a shouting match with the former guard.

Fu Ran, however, would not be ignored. “You’re more uptight than you’ll let onto others. You’re patient, by Sheng Fan standards, but I’ve been away from Sheng Fan for a long time and I see things a little differently now.”

Xu Liang couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips. “Do you?” He opened his eyes to see the other man’s anger, which was successfully provoking him. “Did you see things so differently when you asked me to take you back?”

Fu Ran tensed visibly, but continued with his statement, as if Xu Liang hadn’t interrupted. “You should know that you were a spoiled brat as a boy, and as a man you’re an imperial pain in the ass!”

Fu Ran may have had more to say, but Xu Liang would let him take this no further. “Since you seem to know so much about me, then you must also know that even I have limits as to what I am willing to endure for the sake of diplomacy.” Though he was frowning, he maintained a low voice. When Fu Ran smiled in his typically insolent fashion, it was all Xu Liang could do to keep from yelling at the former guard. “I will not lose the Empress because Alere cannot contain his hatred. Or because Tristus cannot control his emotions. Sheng Fan will not fall into the hands of dishonorable men for the petty prejudices between elves, or the recklessness of a troubled young man. The swords will come together if I have to take them from their bearers myself and find new bearers!”

When he heard himself, Xu Liang knew at once that he had spoken rashly and wrongly. He was behaving like a child, and how could he help it, the way Fu Ran needled him with his impudence and his ignorance? He turned away from the former guard just before he screamed at him and realized in the very instant that he had allowed things to go too far.

He drew in a long breath and held it. Upon the release, he said wearily. “Leave me, Fu Ran. I must rest.”

The large man sighed, almost with remorse. “Xu Liang...”

Xu Liang would not listen. “Fu Ran, if you do not leave, I will say something that both of us will regret for many years to come.”

Fu Ran hesitated. Eventually, he left, saying nothing more and Xu Liang stood in the relative quiet left behind, hearing only the wind through the mountains.

At length, he looked over his shoulder at the skyline to the north, an impenetrable wall of mountains and clouds. “Damn you,” he said, maybe to no one in particular.

“
U
GH! WHAT IN Hell’s name is that stench?”

“Be silent!” Alere hissed. He’d been smelling what the gypsy only now complained about for more than a day. It was a stomach-churning pungency that wafted through the dark air here, but there were fouler things in this darkness than the odor. Alere could sense the presence of the Keirveshen. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as they progressed nearer to the place on Bastien’s map that was marked ‘Vorhaven’s Manor’.

“There’s a bog near,” Alere finally said.

Bastien went for his map. “There’s not a bog anywhere near this area. There wasn’t one when—”

“There is one,” Alere told the gypsy, concluding the matter.

“All right, there is one,” Bastien murmured. “And since you haven’t taken your hand off your sword for at least the last hour, do you think I might be able to have my own weapons back now?”