Six Celestial Swords (49 page)

“The Swords,” Xu Liang murmured.

“Yes, the Swords,” Tristus echoed. He smiled as relief began to settle, but it did not last.

Xu Liang suddenly became tense again. “
Pearl Moon
! The dome...the...”

“It held,” Tristus said quickly. “Xu Liang, it worked. You saved us. None of us are hurt.” He thought of the dreadful moments that followed the giant’s attack and his own reactions to such tragedy. His hand strayed to the mystic’s straining neck, then, as if the memories played in reverse, he lifted his hand and slid his fingers gently over Xu Liang’s chin and across his lips, wiping away the blood that wasn’t there, feeling the warm skin as he hadn’t that day, with his gloves on. He added softly, “But we will all be sorely grieved if you leave us now.”

The mystic relaxed and fell still.

Tristus felt an instant’s rise of panic before he realized Xu Liang was still breathing. The mystic seemed no longer to be trapped in his nightmares, but he wasn’t awake. Tristus looked to Shirisae for answers, but found the elf no longer present. He didn’t worry about where she’d gone, or why, as he came to realize how very awkward this must have looked.

Reddening, in spite of his lack of audience, Tristus lifted himself off of Xu Liang’s still form and simply stationed himself at the edge of the wide mattress. He only briefly wondered if he’d offended or embarrassed the lady elf with his efforts that might have seemed a little too intimate in the end, before he began to wonder why he should be embarrassed himself. It was not cause for embarrassment or shame to love someone, even if that love was not viewed as traditional or even acceptable. The views of others didn’t negate that love. It still existed, it would only hurt more trying to deny it for propriety’s sake.

“Isn’t it obvious anyway?” Tristus asked the slumbering source of his confusion. “I’ve done nothing but stare at you since we met. Yes, at first even I mistook it for little more than awe and respect while I struggled to find some light left in this world to follow. I’ve not had much ease in relationships, of any kind. I’ll admit that it’s easier to worship than to love.” He sighed. “Of course I’ve no idea how you could possibly feel, or whether or not you’ll even live past the hour, so I don’t see why...”

Tristus stopped himself, his throat swelling with tears he didn’t even realize he was holding back. He stared long at the pale slender form caught up in a tangle of black silk that failed to conceal Xu Liang as well as the silk of his own robes had. He did not necessarily look smaller or weaker while exposed, though it was clear he was much thinner than Tristus. Instead he looked more vulnerable...touchable rather than off limits on pain of holy retribution.

Tristus’ hand slid across the mattress, came upon Xu Liang’s fingers that were still warm in his fevered state, and overlapped them. If he’d meant the touch to be experimental, he’d discovered what he wanted to know. Upon this first deliberate contact he felt his heart prickled by the warmth of desire. He wanted to lay down beside the mystic, wrap his arms around him, and hold him forever or longer.

The needling warmth entered Tristus’ blood and became a stabbing heat at every pulse point. Tristus withdrew, breathless. Now he knew for certain.

Before panicking while Xu Liang lay dying in the giant’s wake, Tristus would never have dared to reach out to him, and had twice felt remiss for having laid a hand on him before, even though it was by accident. Now a recurring revelation struck him once again, reminding him that Xu Liang was human…mortal, and bound to the same mortal needs and wants, and feelings as anyone else.

“Bound perhaps,” Tristus murmured, feeling depressed even as his heart raced with hope. “To someone else? Your Empress, perhaps?”

And then, as if hearing the magic word of awakening, Xu Liang opened his eyes. He scarcely glanced at Tristus, at once curious about his surroundings. He took them in slowly, closing his eyes frequently against the sudden light, dim as it may have been.

“Where is this place?” Xu Liang’s voice carried barely above a whisper, but it was just as calm as ever.

“This is Vilciel,” Tristus answered as softly. “The dragons’ city in the sky.”

“Dragons?” Xu Liang seemed momentarily confused. In a moment, he seemed to recall, and said, “Skytown. The elves?”

Tristus nodded. “They led us here. They healed you with their magic.”

Xu Liang closed his eyes again. “It is done,” he whispered.

“What is?” Tristus asked him.

“My concentration and my health are both shattered. I will be of little use to anyone, least of all my Empress. How could I have been so...careless?”

“Careless?” Tristus was shocked, but tried to keep his tone soothing, understanding that the mystic was disoriented at the very least. “What you did was—”

“Reckless,” Xu Liang finished, deciding in the next moment that it was time to sit up.

Tristus tried to stop him, but the mystic simply held out his hand with renewed aplomb, and Tristus recoiled automatically.

Xu Liang completed his ascent, but leaned heavily on one arm and brought the hand that had stopped Tristus to his head as if to steady it. “How long have I been here?”

“Not more than a day,” Tristus answered. “We brought you here right after...”

“Where are the others?”

Wounded by the edge Xu Liang’s quiet voice had taken, Tristus had to swallow his words once, before getting them out free of tears. “They’re here, waiting. Except for Alere. He…”

This time it was not Xu Liang’s words that stopped him, but the mystic’s frown as he lifted his face away from his hand. The dissatisfaction in that expression was enough to make Tristus shudder for the second time since waking up that morning.

In Tristus’ silence, Xu Liang said, “He took the Twilight Blade.”

It was no question, but a statement, and it was delivered with a tone that suggested no surprise, as if Alere had somehow satisfied suspicions of betrayal. Tristus could only nod in the face of this changed person, whom he had moments ago confirmed that he loved deeply. Xu Liang’s unexpected anger did not change his feelings, but it made Tristus more certain that his affections would go unanswered if he dared reveal them openly.

Xu Liang dropped his face into his hand again. “Where is Gai Ping? We must leave here. At once.”

“He’s with the others,” Tristus informed. “And you’re in no condition for travel. Not yet.”

“That is not for you to decide, Tristus Edainien,” Xu Liang snapped. “My guards and I shall leave immediately.”

“Your guards and—what are you saying? What about the rest of us? We’re...”

Xu Liang lifted his gaze once more, showing patience but no concern. “There is no quest, if that is what you intend to argue about. It is done. I must return to Sheng Fan and report my failure to the Empress.”

Tristus frowned remonstratively. “Your failure? How can you say that? You’re alive. You can—”

“I would not expect you to understand,” Xu Liang said dismissively, causing Tristus to flinch as if he’d been struck a physical blow. “Now I must ask that you leave me alone.”

Tristus hesitated, wanting to argue, wanting to express his feelings, wanting to say anything that would keep him beside the mystic, knowing that if he left he would lose forever what he’d never even had. He sat staring, searching for words, ready to begin stammering anything that came to mind.

And then, Xu Liang whispered, “Forgive me.” He spoke into his hand, muffling what sounded like...tears? “Deng Po...Hu Zhong, Yuan Lan...your deaths are my blame. And now I would abandon what you died for.”

Tristus remained, assuming because Xu Liang spoke a language other than Fanese, that he wanted to be heard.

“The Dragon rises,” he continued, staring at the bed through watering eyes. “The Swords must be brought to Sheng Fan, but the Empress...she is alone. She has been taken from my protection...completely from my reach. If she dies, there is no one else. The Empire will fall.”

Tristus watched the mystic holding back his emotions, still too proud to show them, even as they were escaping him. Tristus took a chance. “You seem to love your Empress a great deal. And yet you have so very little faith in her.”

Xu Liang’s brow creased, but he did not look at the individual he had dismissed moments ago. “She is...” The mystic stopped himself, considering, maybe arguing with himself. After several moments, his thoughts failed to bear words.

Tristus leaned toward him, careful not to touch. “Xu Liang, I have
Dawnfire
. I know it is one of the Blades you seek. It glows in the company of the others. You are not so far off as you think from accomplishing what you set out to do. How many are you looking for?”

The mystic slowly lowered his hand. His long hair, freed from the combs that had previously held it, draped his face and even as he refused to look at Tristus it was evident that he was still frowning. It was evident in his voice, as he was not above speaking to Tristus now. “No one has told you anything?”

“I... didn’t ask. We were preoccupied just with getting here.”

“Is this your idea of faith, Tristus Edainien? To follow blindly, a person or a purpose you know so very little about?”

Tristus answered the mystic’s question with one of his own. It seemed a better option than professing his love. “How am I to learn, if I do not follow?”

Xu Liang lifted his face, but did not look at Tristus. His lips formed a vague, humorless smile, and he was not speaking lightly when he said, “Your persistence may be the death of us both. But if what you say is true, it would appear that you are the bearer of the Dawn Blade.” His already lightless expression darkened considerably, making Tristus grieve for the resplendence that the giant may have killed, even if the mystic himself survived. “Forgive me for saying that it seems a small gain against all that has been lost.”

Tristus failed to take offense, seeing how much Xu Liang cared for his Empress and his homeland, enough that the tears still glistened in his brown eyes. He knew that the mystic needed time alone, and as much as he couldn’t bear to leave him, in spite of everything, he sat back and stood.

“Six,” Xu Liang said suddenly, still quietly.

Tristus wasn’t sure that he’d heard him at first, but before he could beg pardon and ask the mystic to repeat himself, more words were offered.

“There are six Celestial Swords, Tristus Edainien, and six bearers. I... we have discovered three to unite with the two that were recently brought to light in Sheng Fan. In Alere’s absence, we have lost one…and in the company of these elves, I am not certain whether we have gained anything more than a glimpse of another. Taking all into consideration, it would seem that my journey into this realm has amounted to a single Blade and its bearer.”

The mystic sighed, and it seemed that he might subtract that last accomplishment as well, but Tristus wouldn’t allow it. He said firmly, “A victory, Master Xu Liang, even in the smallest virtue, is still a victory.”

Then he stepped away from the bed and took his leave, stopping several paces away when he heard a muffled sob behind him. He frowned with concern and sympathy, but he did not look back, and eventually left the chamber, guided by candlelight on one side and toppled furniture and spilled, smoldering wax on the other.

“
A
RE YOU CRAZY?”

Tristus sighed and shook his head, refusing to answer the lady dwarf this time; she had already questioned his sanity three times since he’d returned to the guest suite. He proceeded to strap on his armor, ignoring the questioning and contemplative gazes of the others while he thought back on Shirisae’s awkward silence leading him back from the dragon-sized bed chamber. After he’d left Xu Liang—in tears, as he dared to recall—the Phoenix Elf had been waiting for him in the hall. She said nothing, and she didn’t have to. Her suspicions were clear. Thank God, Xu Liang was too dejected and disoriented to share in her suspicions. It was obvious, anyway, where the mystic’s interests lay; a world away from a heartsick knight with amorous leanings toward his own gender.

Tristus couldn’t help it. He got along with women beautifully, most of the time, he’d just never fallen in love with one. Perhaps he could blame a certain handsome cleric, who’d been even more confused than Tristus, swaying toward and away from his friend and beneath the austere gazes of his superiors until he finally couldn’t take it. He stopped speaking to Tristus altogether, determined to remain celibate and therefore pure in the eyes of everyone, including God, for the rest of his days. Tristus almost went that route himself, convinced that there was something horribly wrong with him, until he met a gentle older knight, who somehow made everything clear. Unfortunately, their time together was all too brief, and could be counted among the innumerable tragedies that constituted Tristus’ life thus far.

You’re not going to be one of them, Xu Liang.

“Tristus,” Tarfan started thoughtfully, if not a bit condescendingly. “Lad...if the mage is as upset as you say, fretting about apparent losses, what makes you think running off on your own just now is going to prove beneficial to this faltering quest?”