Six Celestial Swords (10 page)

Xu Liang laid the second scroll flat on top of the first, upon the blanket he had spread over the hard wood of the cabin floor. Two candles were placed to either side of the blanket upon which he sat cross-legged, illuminating the small windowless room with a soft orange glow. The scrolls did not appear to say much of immediate interest pertaining to the Celestial Swords, but they spoke worlds to Xu Liang, who recognized the words’ underlying meaning—meaning that Cai Shi-meng himself may have overlooked in writing them. Xu Liang felt as if the scrolls had been delivered to him, deliberately. It was otherwise a strange coincidence that the dragon should arrive and inspire Yvain’s vision, which in turn reminded her of the scrolls.

Xu Liang sighed with a sense of accomplishment and closed his eyes. And that was when he felt the intruders.

THE FANESE SHIP came out of the darkness like a wraith drifting over the water, enshrouded in lingering tendrils of mist. In the blackness of the night, no one had seen the fog encroaching until it was too late. The enemy was upon them and it was time now for the
Pride of Celestia
to live up to its name.

“Damn,” Fu Ran cursed, grinding his fist unconsciously into his hand. “They caught up with us after all.”

“And much sooner than I would have expected.”

Fu Ran glanced back at the mystic as he arrived on deck. “You should stay below. This is no place for scholars.”

Calmly, Xu Liang said, “You seem to forget that I have seen battle.”

Fu Ran was forced to take a second look at his former master. Seen it, yes, but from the rear of hundreds of thousands of troops, safely out of the range of everything except for catapults…or from the seclusion of a hidden base camp, receiving reports and issuing orders or advice. Xu Liang himself was like a specter, an otherworldly being floating through the world with virtually no physical aspect to him save that others could see him and—if they dared—touch him. It was with touch that Fu Ran recalled that Xu Liang was no spirit, but human, and a particularly frail one at that. In spite of their rough reunion at Ti Lao, it seemed to Fu Ran that the wake of a blade alone, even if the weapon utterly missed the sorcerer, would deal him a mortal blow. It seemed that way, but he’d made the mistake of underestimating Xu Liang before and if he honestly believed him so defenseless he would never have sparred with him at Ti Lao.

Just as his confidence in the mystic was beginning its pendulum swing, Xu Liang touched his arm lightly. With the faintest smile, he said, “You must trust me, Fu Ran. I have not held my position at the Imperial Court this long through carelessness.”

He was right, as always. Fu Ran nodded, swallowed his old sense of duty as it came up, and turned his attention to the Fanese vessel drawing too near. “Who are they?”

“I do not know,” Xu Liang admitted. “But they are more persistent than I anticipated.”

“Bastards,” Fu Ran grumbled, and watched Aeran archers line up across the deck.

The pale northern men were skilled hunters, trained with a bow almost from the moment they could hold one. Tonight men would be their game. The shapes of the raiders were just visible in the trace light of Fanese-style mounted torches— ‘fire baskets’, the Aerans called them. The way the pirates were gathering made their intentions all too clear.

Fu Ran’s lips curled upward. “I don’t think a wind is going to carry us away from this fight.”

“No,” Xu Liang agreed, missing Fu Ran’s sarcasm or ignoring it. “There isn’t time and besides, with the ships this close, it would carry both.”

Fu Ran nodded, though he was absent from one concern as another came up. “I know you can cast a quick spell when you have to, but I think I’d feel better if I knew you were carrying that fancy blade of yours.”

“I have it,” the mystic answered with no enthusiasm.

Fu Ran drew his great sword from the harness at his back and a grin peeled slowly across his face. “Let them come.”

They did.

It began with grappling lines. Xu Liang forced two back with a quick burst of wind and one failed to reach on its own, but three were successful, their metal ends digging into the wooden railing of the
Pride of Celestia
. The ships drifted closer and the men aboard the Fanese vessel readied a wide plank to lay across the shrinking distance. The Aeran bowmen fired and were fired upon. Ensuing cries of pain indicated that they had hit their mark and also been hit themselves. The survivors on both sides continued, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the plank coming down, clattering against the deck. The ruckus continued as the first wave of boarders trod over it.

Fu Ran was there to receive them, swinging his enchanted blade in wide arcs, sweeping several of the enemies overboard at once. Those that landed on
Pride’s
deck were intercepted by others of the Aeran crew, including their captain, who wielded her light blade expertly against two slightly dazed but nonetheless dangerous Fanese bandits.

XU LIANG LIFTED
Pearl Moon
, watching the pale, sleek blade glimmer along the edge, as if with anticipation. Somehow it knew when it was needed, and it was eager to answer the call to duty. Perhaps too eager, but there was no choice. Xu Liang was well aware that he had brought this danger upon the
Pride of Celestia
. He would defend her, by whatever means necessary.

The bodyguards shifted around Xu Liang, preparing to receive a handful of oncoming bandits that had evaded Fu Ran’s welcome. Blades crossed. Xu Liang fell into an unnatural stance that somehow felt natural to him while he held
Pearl Moon
in his grasp. He had never been fond of fighting, not even in practice, but he had accepted his training as a youth because Xu Hong would have it no other way.

‘A brush and ink pot will not save you from an assailant,’
his father had said more than once, long before his frail, studious son had even considered taking up a study in magic. Even so, Xu Hong would not have been satisfied relying on any element other than iron or steel to shield one of his clan. Today, as so many days before it, Xu Hong’s insistence proved worthwhile.

A bandit crept around the occupied bodyguards and came at Xu Liang. Xu Liang closed his hand tighter around the hilt of his sword and caught the green and blue tassels swinging in the corner of his vision as he blocked the high blow. The pale magic glow radiated from the edge of the blade and hummed as it deflected the common iron used by the bandit.

A space was put between combatants. Xu Liang took advantage as he saw another of the man’s allies coming, cutting low before the bandit could strike again. The man fell to the deck and Xu Liang spun away from the next attacker, feeling the air separate with the bandit’s fierce swing, just missing him. Xu Liang did what the moment commanded, then moved on to the next foe, giving himself to the blade’s fervor, recalling a proverb inspired by the Goddess Mei Qiao:
When the Moon rises over darkness, she does so fiercely and without remorse.

SEVERAL FEET AWAY from Xu Liang, Fu Ran roared with laughter that put hesitation into the movements of his multiple opponents. He batted three more into the sea with the flat of his blade, hearing the crack of at least one ribcage. He elbowed the skull of another attacker who was attempting to jab his side while it was left momentarily unguarded by his swing. The man dropped to the deck and Fu Ran turned his head just in time to catch a blur of many colors rushing by him as a bandit leapt down from the deck railing.

“You missed!” Fu Ran gloated.

His grin became a frown when he felt warm moisture running down his arm. He wheeled around to face the man just rising behind him, dressed in green trousers decorated with many gold serpents and held at the waist with a wide belt. His arms and bare chest were home to several tattoos of scaly creatures. From head to toe, there was a wild look about him, bordering on crazed, enhanced with cunning. He carried a broad one-handed sword with a curved blade and a gold hilt, probably stolen.

“You must be the Laughing Devil,” the bandit said with a smirk. He lifted his weapon. “They call me Zhen Yu.”

“The River Master,” Fu Ran recalled, his smile returning as he tasted the forthcoming challenge. “What brings you out to sea?”

“A lot of profit,” the pirate answered and he came forward, performing a series of stark, precise slashes that threatened to pass Fu Ran’s heavier blade.

The extra reach provided by the enchanted tassel spared Fu Ran the embarrassment. He stepped back and swung out.

Zhen Yu leapt out of harm’s way and darted back in, again attacking almost faster than his larger opponent could block. Fu Ran paid attention to the man’s timing, and surprised him by lunging forward when Zhen Yu pulled back to swing at the start of a fresh series of attacks. Fu Ran utilized his own momentum, ramming his large bald head square into the smaller man’s tattooed chest.

Zhen Yu flew backwards with the assault, knocking over two other bodies in his path.

Fu Ran grinned and slowly let go the silk tassel dangling from his sword’s hilt.

WITH HIS BACK to the plank, the Laughing Devil missed the coming of several uninvited boarders, including Xiadao Lu, who’d spotted his quarry before even crossing between ships. Sorcerers made a bad habit of revealing themselves with their magic. He followed the erratically swelling blue light to the mystic, cutting down the opponent Xu Liang was engaged with to announce himself.

Xu Liang looked at him, eyes narrow and gleaming softly, like a pair of pallid moons in a heavy sky. Magic filled the Imperial Peacock, but that did not trouble the warrior come to destroy him.

Xiadao Lu held the shaft of his weapon in both hands. His stance was light and balanced, prepared for anything this time. “This is where your journey ends. I will kill you now!”

The mystic appeared undaunted. “Even if that were so, it would not be the end of my journey, but the beginning of a new one. However, I do not think that you will be the one to show me that path.”

“We shall see!” Xiadao Lu retorted and lunged forward, into a series of strikes that were deflected and returned, and blocked again. The pattern continued for several moments with only brief pauses between the combatants during which one glared softly while the other issued a vicious scowl.