Six Celestial Swords (67 page)

Shirisae laughed through her tears, recalling how, even as a small child, she had always tried to be as strong and fearless as her brother.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispered, then kissed his cheek and pulled away. He reached out to brush away her tears, but she wouldn’t allow it. He would remember her strong, and therefore he would not spend precious thoughts that should all be for his son or daughter, worrying about her. In
Firestorm
as well as in her heart, she was bringing the Phoenix with her. The Flame would still protect her.

On that thought, Shirisae left her brother and didn’t look back. At least she could be comforted in knowing that D’mitri had never cried a day of his long life.

SOME HOURS AFTER its departure, the company arrived at the base of the mountain that housed Vilciel. The group huddled in the pass for only a few moments, perhaps to finalize the route they meant to take to the distant coast.

And then, suddenly, ten well-bred horses were spurred across the snow with their riders, heading north. It was likely that none of them noticed the griffin soaring overhead, seeing them off with D’mitri upon its back, who watched as his sister and twin was borne away from him.

I
T HAD ONLY just occurred to Fu Ran, as he counted the days since leaving his ship, that the
Pride of Celestia
was due at the northeastern tip of Upper Yvaria in eighteen days. Their passage aboard the ship would be guaranteed, and their destination would be Aer, the country which directly preceded Sheng Fan on Dryth’s eastern continent.

That was only if they could make it. They had less than twenty days to get to the port town of Willenthurn. If they made it in time, and the weather was agreeable for sailing, they would have only a matter of hours to locate the ship, whose captain didn’t have a strong liking for long layovers where there wasn’t a large profit in the loading or unloading of cargo to be made. It would not be easy, but it was possible.

Xu Liang silently thanked the priestess Ahjenta once more. They would not have had a chance if not for the horses she had provided for the others. For the first time since leaving Sheng Fan, it seemed that luck was truly on his side.

Hold strong, my Empress. I am coming. And I have the Swords.

Continue the adventure in FIVE KINGDOMS.

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READ ON FOR AN EXCERPT FROM FIVE KINGDOMS:

PROLOGUE: UNLIKELY ALLIES

U
nlikely...the word doesn’t seem to fit. Then again, what else does one call the allegiance of two dwarves—myself and my niece—a mountain elf, a fire elf, an Andarian knight, and a large handful of Fanese men, which includes one strayed Fanese ox?

As I sit huddled in a cave in the extreme northern parts of Yvaria, freezing my beard off, scratching out another page of my memoirs, I see children before me—with the exception of one fellow ancient, who doesn’t happen to speak my language, nor I his.

Shirisae is actually the eldest of the brood, though she is still young for her kind. Proud, beautiful, and strong of mind and body; the Phoenix Elf is the sister who loves and guides, and protects in the absence of a mother. She didn’t start out that way—she had her moments of selfishness and thoughtlessness, sure as a lamb will frolic—but when it came time to assume a stronger role, she stepped into it with fortitude and grace. She watches the others with her golden eyes now, proud and protective as a lioness over her cubs. Even Alere, whom she once despised for his icy nature, has received more than one look from his fellow elf that almost half resembled something in the way of a tender—well, maybe more kind...probably just civil—smile. The lass is trying.

Alere doesn’t make it easy for anyone to give a mule’s hind end about him. He speaks little and when he does open that frost-rimed mouth of his, it’s usually just to state some fact that the victim of his conversation was happier not knowing. Gods forbid, we can’t all be as perfect as the white elf.

Perfect...

Xu Liang certainly tries to be. If this dysfunctional, ragtag assembly of adventurers could truly be considered a family, the mystic is the model son become head of his own house. Patient, studious...meticulously groomed. Even now he sits upon the filthy ground as if it is a plush cushion, every fold of his robes perfect, regardless of wear and weathering…every hair in place in spite of its great lengths…his expression imperturbable while he travels deeper into his thoughts, never quite losing himself. The man stays ever alert to the others around him, always prepared to answer a question or to end a dispute. Thinker, mediator, sorcerer, and even warrior...he knows no boundary, except for his health. He’s skilled, but he’s not strong. His mind and soul are determined, but his body has never been as willing. It rebels now, quietly. Most of the others don’t notice. They’re under his spell, charmed by his leadership. The lad’s cheated death. The others view his survival as some magical will to survive, believing that he will live simply because he will not allow himself to die. The elders among us know that the young mage has cheated death, but he has not fooled it altogether.

The ‘elders’ among us.

As I mentioned before, there’s only one other than myself. An old guard, one of five bodyguards remaining to the Fanese mystic; Xu Liang, who I’ll add here is also a nobleman of his land, entitled to wear perfectly excessive layers of silk, to study to his heart’s content, and to collect human shields. He has six of them now, counting Fu Ran—the ox who abandoned his homeland and who can’t seem to shake its traditions, or his sentiment toward the man he once served. But that’s a story for later, and it brings me now to the boy.

Of course, he’s told me plenty of times that he’s not a boy and, agewise, I suppose he’s right, but when I look at Tristus Edainien, all I can see—and have ever seen—is a lonely young lad in his father’s armor. His smiles are wounded, his eyes shining more often than not with tears. I didn’t sympathize with him at first—not much—but, as with the elves, the lad has grown on me. And he’s grown attached to my niece. Separating the two of them is like peeling the bark off a Calliprian Tower Tree; in the end it’s just not worth the effort. I suppose it’s good for both of them. Neither ever had any siblings, and that’s what they’ve become to one another; like one of the closest brother and sister pairs a body ever met. I hope I never see the day their paths are forced apart. Gods know higher forces have tried—and tried breaking up the lot of us, I might add. It’s not an innocent exploratory outing I’ve gotten myself into this time around. Chaos is rising, and it may just be up to this motley assortment of friends and allies—blessed with the power of six otherworldly weapons—to put it to rest.

As usual, the future of human, dwarf, and elf kind rests on the shoulders of the young. It’s a good thing they’ve got me around to keep them in line. There’s nothing worse than a pup drunk off his own power!

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