Six Celestial Swords (61 page)

“Alere, what’s the matter with you?” He glanced at Guang Ci apologetically, then followed the elf toward the horses, who were still huddled in the doorway of the manor. “Where are you going? We came here looking for you, to ask you to come back with us.”

“To Vilciel?” Alere asked, wiping his blade with the edge of his stained cloak, apparently taking the pale garment for ruined after another gruesome battle. “I told you once already; I will not go there.”

“You said more than that,” Tristus reminded, frowning now at the elf’s stubbornness. “Your words gave me hope that Xu Liang’s quest would go on, even if he did not. That his purpose in uniting the Swords would not go unfulfilled. I thought you—”

“He is dead, then?” Alere asked, before Tristus had even finished speaking.

“What?”

The elf repeated himself. “The mystic has passed?”

Tristus glared, hurt now as well as angry. He had finally reached his limit with the elf’s coldness. “You know his name, Alere. Don’t speak of him as if he were a stranger, whom you care nothing for. And, damn you, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

The elf did not. He sheathed his blade and went about checking his gear that was strapped onto Breigh, readying to leave. He said, far too easily, “You have my condolences.”

Tristus felt the entirety of the night’s victory drain out of him with that statement. The loss was not apparent until just then. “I see now. You don’t care. You don’t care about anything, except your personal quest for vengeance. I suppose it’s back to your mountain lair now that it’s over.” He felt tears stinging his eyes while Alere continued to ignore him, but he did not let them into his voice. “Keep your condolences. I am not the one who needs sympathy. My heart may bleed from time to time, but at least it has not turned to ice.”

“Speak carefully,” Alere warned. “You tread upon unfamiliar ground.”

“Yes, I do,” Tristus admitted bitterly. “And it is much to my regret. I had come to hope that we were friends, Alere. You were prepared to count me as such before you left. It grieves me that you would treat me with such disdain now. Have you no love in you at all, for any—”

Alere turned suddenly, and grabbed Tristus by the shoulders. He pushed him roughly into the shadows, against the wall just inside of the front hall, where he stood silently glaring at him for a long, confusing moment. At first Tristus was convinced the elf meant to attack him for aggravation. And then, not too quickly, Alere kissed him full on the mouth.

Tristus flushed and felt his heart thrumming in his ears, shocked beyond speech or movement at this discovery.

When the kiss ended, the elf’s gray eyes searched Tristus’ face, as if looking for something. And then he said angrily, “My heart has not become ice. It has become rebellious, and I would deal with it in my own way.”

He moved as if he would step back, so Tristus grabbed his arm, detaining the elf because—Tristus believed—he was willing to be detained.

“You would deal with it by running away? Alere, I did not…I could not have known how you feel, and knowing now doesn’t change my mind. I seek your friendship and I appeal to your sense of honor and righteousness when I ask you to return with me, to complete this duty that was given to you when you took up
Aerkiren
.”

Alere continued to glare and slowly, Tristus released him.

He held the elf’s smoldering gray gaze, and said quietly, “Xu Liang lives, but his faith is shattered. He believes he has failed. I...” Shame filled Tristus, strangling his words while they were forming. “I stole Blue Crane, and came to find you…to bring you back and prove to him that all hope is not lost.”

Alere looked over his shoulder at the sleek gray steed, then back at Tristus. Then he turned and walked away. “You are a proficient thief,” he said, and Tristus couldn’t tell whether or not he was serious.

Tristus decided not to ask what he meant, following him at a distance. When he recovered his courage, he asked, “Will you come back, Alere?”

“Have you told him?” the elf asked suddenly, glancing at Shirisae when the lady elf finally made her way to the front hall from the upper floors, having decided against Alere’s method of reaching the ground level.

“Told him what?” Tristus looked at Shirisae as well, knowing in spite of her apparent disinterest that she was listening.

“How you feel,” Alere said bluntly.

Tristus went to Blue Crane and stood close to the animal, as if he could hide himself in its shadow. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable discussing this, particularly with the warmth of Alere’s lips still fresh upon his own. “N-no.”

Shirisae took her own horse by the bit, and led the black beast outside, casting Tristus a peculiar look of compassion when she walked by. He wanted to follow her, to not be left alone with the white elf, who was not only extremely bold, but also damned handsome. Of course, Tristus couldn’t actually betray Xu Liang—there was nothing shared between them—but he felt somehow as if he had, and he didn’t like the sensation. He didn’t fully trust that he wouldn’t allow it to happen again. He’d gone too long without affection. It felt good...too good. He wondered at the irony of his situation, that he should have the love of two of Dryth’s most reclusive, elitist peoples and he could scarcely get a second thought from someone as understanding as Xu Liang seemed to be.

Finally, Alere said, “I will see the Blades united, but from there I cannot promise you anything. The master of the Keirveshen has been destroyed, but the shadows themselves remain. I still feel that I must hunt them to be assured of the safety of my house and my family.”

Tristus should have felt relieved, but instead he felt a weight sinking inside of him. Feeling depressed, he could only nod in response to Alere’s words.

THE DAYS PASSED slowly and silently. Awkwardly, Tristus thought as lay awake on his blankets, gazing into their dying campfire. Alere didn’t actually ride with them, just as he hadn’t throughout the previous journey through the Alabaster Mountains and across the Flatlands. The white elf scouted ahead and occasionally came back to report his findings, none of which had been much to worry about. Tristus found himself constantly thinking back to the start of his journey with Xu Liang and the others. He was sure that they had despised and distrusted him at first, all but Xu Liang and Taya. Xu Liang seemed to have no open opinion and treated him fairly while Taya was the only friend he could count among them for the first several days. Alere had scarcely looked at him, and Tristus could have counted the number of times he’d actually spoken to him on one hand.

How could he have known the elf’s feelings? Where had such feelings come from? What did he mean when he said that his heart had become rebellious? Had he previously been in love with someone else? Why did he ask about Xu Liang—whether or not Tristus had confessed his feelings to the mystic? Why was Shirisae regarding him with such pity? What did she know that he did not?

It was becoming unbearable.

Someone touched him through the darkness, and he jumped involuntarily. In his sleeplessness, his eyes had long grown accustomed to the shifting darkness as the hours of night moved over him—across a moonless, starless sky—and he quickly realized that it was Shirisae kneeling beside him.

“It is your watch,” the lady elf informed him. “You look tired. Have you not slept?”

“I’m fine,” Tristus lied, aware that that wasn’t what she had asked. He sat up and pushed both hands through his hair. Then he sighed and forced a polite smile. “It’s your turn to rest, Shirisae. Sleep well.”

Through the darkness he saw her red lips form a smile.

She touched his face with a sister’s affection, then chastely planted a kiss on his forehead. “I fear that I have placed an unfair burden upon you,” she said gently. “Please forgive me, and try not to think about it so much. I, of all people, should know that fate cannot be rushed or forced. Would you still offer me your heart in friendship, Tristus Edainien?”

“Shirisae,” Tristus said, swallowing the emotions as they climbed his throat. “I gave my heart to you in that way long ago.”

“Then I am content,” she whispered, and hugged him briefly before slipping away into the darkness.

Tristus sighed and wiped his eyes, then rose to find a place to sit and keep an eye on the camp.

They had crossed Windra’s Channel earlier in the day and traveled through gentle hills on their way back to the harsh, dark mountains along the upper edge of the Alabaster Range. They had at least another day’s journey ahead of them, not including the hours it took to ascend to Vilciel. Perhaps there he could find a room to lock himself into and shut out the world for a span. He loved these people dearly, but he didn’t know how to handle their loving him back, or their apparent inability to do so, in one particular case. He hadn’t expected this when he set out from Andaria alone.

Tristus wandered a few yards from the campsite and held his cloak about him with one hand, feeling cold in his armor. Holding
Dawnfire
in his other hand, he stared south, envisioning the mountains he couldn’t see through the darkness, recalling the city that had stolen his breath and the people he had left there. He missed Taya. Her kindness had come so automatic and unconditional, he felt like he could say anything to her. And he needed someone to talk to about now, someone who would just listen. Shirisae was lucky to have D’mitri. Tristus sometimes wished that he had siblings. He had cousins, but none that he felt particularly close to.

Sensing movement in the open darkness around him, Tristus tensed and took up
Dawnfire
in both hands. The action reminded him that the spear was the only significant weapon he had left. He’d lost his father’s sword in the bog in front of Vorhaven’s manor. He didn’t think that he needed another weapon, but the sword of the Order had sentimental value.

“It’s me,” Alere announced, and Tristus was finally able to descry the elf’s shape when he slipped down from Breigh’s back.

Tristus relaxed his stance, but felt his insides knotting.

“Sleep if you like,” the elf continued. “There isn’t anything for miles to be concerned about.”

“Thank you,” Tristus said somewhat flatly, “but I’ve slept enough.”

I’ve tried to, at any rate
, he added in secret. He should have known better than to think that he could hide anything from Alere, however.

“You have been unable to sleep,” the elf said, simply as a matter of fact.

He seemed as distant and imperturbable as ever, but Tristus would never be able to see him in the same light again. He knew now that there were multiple chambers within the elf’s heart, and that not all of them were storage for vengeance.

Alere seemed to sense this and said, “I have made you uncomfortable.”

“No,” Tristus replied at once. “No, Alere, you haven’t.”

He felt the elf’s clear eyes penetrating the darkness, cutting away the lie so that he could see clearly the truth hidden behind it.

Tristus sighed in defeat. “All right. I am a bit unhinged about this. I never expected...I didn’t think that...”

Alere said nothing, as if waiting for Tristus to finish. When Tristus failed to do so, he cast his own voice into the silence. “This is strange for me as well. I have cared for no one deeply, outside of my family.”

Tristus waited, feeling somehow that the statement was incomplete, that the elf should say he hadn’t loved anyone outside of his family since...since some affair long past. But Alere didn’t say anything more, and suddenly Tristus recalled what Shirisae had said about him, that he was young, even by elf standards. How young? Surely Alere wasn’t...surely he couldn’t mean...

Tristus was unable to finish the thought in his amaze that quickly became dismay. Maybe Alere didn’t actually care for him in that way. Perhaps he was only confused. For an instant Tristus felt almost ten years younger, and then he suddenly felt very old and culpably insensitive to those around him while he was wrapped up in his concerns for himself.

“Alere,” Tristus finally said, and then suddenly realized he didn’t know what else to say. He’d been thinking of all that Gerrick had said to him, but none of it seemed to apply here. For Tristus it had already been established where his interests lay. His problems had stemmed in the past from shame and embarrassment, fear that he was not normal and, worst of all, immoral in the eyes of God.

Alere didn’t know God as He would know the elf, regardless of his beliefs, and it wasn’t clear whether or not Alere’s current inclinations were ingrained or circumstantial.

At length, and more to himself, Tristus said, “I feel as if I know nothing about you.”

“If you knew, it is likely that you would not understand,” Alere replied quietly. “We are vastly different.”

Tristus looked at him across the darkness, feeling leagues away from him. “Who is vastly different? You and I, or elves and humans?”

“Both,” Alere answered. And in the next moment he said, “I cannot withdraw the statement made with my actions, but I will not force the subject.”

Something in the elf’s words irritated Tristus. “Indeed, you cannot withdraw such a statement, nor how boldly it was made. You cannot dismiss it either, Alere.”