Six Celestial Swords (52 page)

“STOP! PLEASE, I can’t take anymore. I can’t feel my feet. My fingers are numb. I know you can hear me! I know you’re listening. This is inhumane!”

Alere drew Breigh to a halt, his hand tightening about her bridle. He set his teeth together, needled by the human’s incessant whining. He might have been able to go on ignoring Bastien Crowe, except that something he said finally struck true.

“You’re right,” Alere said. “This is inhumane. Breigh has no more love for you than I.”

He walked back to the gypsy, whose hands were bound behind his back and whose ankles were connected by a span of rope stretched beneath the mare. He cut the bindings with his dagger and hauled his prisoner out of the saddle, dropping him unceremoniously onto the snow-covered forest floor.

Bastien sprawled on the ground, righting himself slowly. Too slowly.

When he suddenly lunged at Alere, Alere struck him back to the ground.

The man was stiff and weak from his method of travel, and from his frustration. The injury
Aerkiren
had dealt him, which was now crudely, but efficiently dressed was not helping his state.

Bastien maneuvered onto his hands and knees, breathing hard, spitting blood onto the snow. “Damn you, elf! Get it over with! I know you’re going to kill me!”

“Perhaps, when it becomes necessary,” Alere replied calmly. “For now, I am in need of someone to confirm this location.”

Bastien glared at him, then gave a quick glance about the woods surrounding them. The trees were darkwoods, their bark almost black. The deep green needles were sharp, more like barbs, capable of not only scratching the unwary traveler, but poisoning as well, it was said. The trees were so thick in number that the only safe way to traverse the forest was to walk.

Bastien’s lips curled upward as he finally seemed to recognize his surroundings. “This is the Deepwood. An elf of the Verres Mountains needed a gypsy to tell him that? I find that hard to believe.”

“I would too, if that were the case,” Alere said. “I know these woods, human, but I do not recall any clear routes through them, and this map is difficult to follow.”

He reached for a rolled parchment tucked into his belt and tossed it onto the ground in front of the gypsy.

Bastien clearly recognized it, but he did not reach for it. Instead, he grinned insolently at his captor. “A thief as well? Riffled through my pockets while I was out, did you? Anything else I should know about?”

Alere ignored his comments. “Who is Malek Vorhaven?”

Bastien lifted his hand to his jaw, slowly wiping away the blood. “Why should I tell you a damned thing?”

“You will speak, gypsy, because you believe words will spare your life. You are a fanatic, Brother of the Balance, but you are far from noble enough to die for your cause, if you don’t have to.” Alere drew
Aerkiren
and extended the blade, point first, toward Bastien. “You don’t have to die, but I will kill you if I must.”

Bastien stared at him, as if contemplating just how serious Alere might have been. In a moment, he’d come to his decision and lowered his hand. He said begrudgingly, “Malek Vorhaven is one of the scholars I spoke to you about. His residence is marked on the map, but it’s not so easy to find as it looks. There’s a spell of confusion on the map. That you followed it this far speaks well for your resolve.”

“You are not a sorcerer,” Alere guessed easily.

Bastien shook his head. “Vorhaven laid the enchantment. I discovered that weeks ago, but I held onto it anyway, hoping that what sense I could make of it, coupled with my memory, might lead me back to his mansion. He’s a very clever man. Offering the map was just a gesture, a trick to lull us into a false sense of security after we entrusted him with...”

The gypsy stopped, deliberately.

Alere’s eyes narrowed. “Am I to take it that Vorhaven betrayed the Brotherhood?”

The gypsy nodded slowly. “That was originally why I came back to Yvaria. It took me damned near a year to convince my captain to make the journey. Fu Ran’s sorcerer friend and his quest was an uncanny coincidence. I decided to investigate while on my way to Upper Yvaria.”

“It was your idea to warn Xu Liang of the bandits from his homeland?”

“No,” Bastien admitted. “But it proved an extraordinarily convenient suggestion on Fu Ran’s part. My captain agreed, almost too easily, and even asked me if I would accompany Fu Ran, since Yvaria happens to be my homeland. Neither of them knew I’d been plotting how I might be able to go ashore for an extended period without actually resigning.”

“Your order doesn’t arrange these matters for you?” Alere asked him, lowering
Aerkiren
.

“The Brotherhood gives us a mission. From then we’re on our own for a specified period of time. If we don’t report back, someone else investigates.”

Alere didn’t take his eyes off the gypsy for a moment, even though the man was unarmed. He continued his interrogation. “And your task is to assassinate this Vorhaven?”

“My aim is the same as yours, elf,” Bastien replied, glaring. “To recover the Night Blade at all costs.”

Alere stepped forward once more, this time he stabbed
Aerkiren
into the ground—through the map—and leaned forward, extending his hand to the gypsy. “I suggest that we find the Sword together. We can settle the cost for ‘recovering’ it when the time comes.”

A LIGHT SNOW crept down through the thick forest canopy. Within only a few moments, it grew heavier, enough that Tristus began to feel like he could sweep the falling curtain aside like drapery and walk through it. The snow had piled up past his ankles when he called the others to a stop.

“Do you think we should rest the horses?” he asked Shirisae when she looked back at him. He looked around them as his voice resonated strangely in the natural enclosure of wood and weather. The forest had come upon them a little too suddenly for his liking.

Guang Ci had looked back upon hearing Tristus’ voice. Their gazes met. They spoke to one another in silence, something they’d learned to do quite well in the past days since leaving Vilciel. The bodyguard nodded once, and then took up what he may have considered a relaxed position beside his horse.

They’d been walking the animals since the forest started closing in around them. It seemed an easy place to be thrown from the saddle or to break a horse’s leg. The terrain was uneven, made more treacherous beneath the fast accumulating snow.

“Do you know these woods?” Tristus asked Shirisae hopefully.

“It is called the Deepwood,” the lady elf answered. “Though I’ve never come this far north myself, I have heard stories of it from others who have.”

“What kind of stories? Not pleasant, I suspect.”

Shirisae shook her head gently. “As a child I was told that a woman entered these woods and became instantly lost, trapped in a labyrinth of dark trees, forced to wander until she was driven mad. Her lover, who came looking for her, rode into the trees carelessly and was scratched by a single pine needle. He fell into a deep, eternal slumber. It is said that the woman still walks these woods, weeping and crying out for him as he lays always within reach, but out of sight beneath the bracken, deaf to her calls in his state.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll all sleep a lot better now,” Tristus replied in mild sarcasm. “Thank you, my lady.”

Shirisae smiled briefly. The expression faded while she looked about the woods. “We were headed north and may have veered slightly west,” she informed. “The nearest town should be Stachendorf, to the east.”

Tristus nodded in acknowledgment. “Sounds human. I doubt Alere went there, since the Verres Mountains lay to the northwest.”

“Elves don’t often take shelter in human cities,” Shirisae confirmed. “Least of all Verressi hunters. Still, he may have ridden through a town if he was in need of any supplies. Desfelden lies along the path to the mountains. We may be able to confirm his passage, if he was sighted by someone inclined to share such information with us.”

“How many days?” Tristus sighed, beginning to regret his haste in this matter.

Shirisae considered, patting her black battle horse on the neck. “Three. Maybe four, considering our pace.”

“And I’ll bet the Verres Mountains aren’t just lying in the backdrop,” Tristus sighed, again. “And I’ll wager as readily that our friend Alere Shaederin doesn’t keep his residence at the base of them.”

“The Mountain Elves of the north may live well out of doors, but they were a sophisticated and cautious people. They built their cities deep within the mountains, connecting them with vast networks of tunnel. They constructed great strongholds out of the rock face, their cities fanning beneath them on the shelf-like outcroppings of the unique mountains, connected by plank bridges. Families of high standing occupied the strongholds, guarding them and serving the cities for generations.

“The house Shaederin was second only to that of the king of the Mountain Elves. Though the royal family did not survive the Shadow Wars, a new king was never named. The houses fell into discord and eventually detachment. Though they fought on together in spirit—the Keirveshen would always be the bane of their kind—they scarcely had any real contact with one another. For more than a hundred years since the Shadow Wars—documented to have ended at the time of their loss—they have existed in the shelter of their mountains and their silence…hidden, forgotten. We elves of the Phoenix were not certain there were any left, but a rogue here and there, eking out what life was left to him. My brother and I almost took Alere for such a rogue, possibly the last, but then it became clear in his eyes.”

Tristus, who had never read anything in the white elf’s guarded gaze, asked, “What did?”

Shirisae looked at him, and she did not smile nor did she show the merest trace of disrespect toward the white elf. She said softly, “He is protecting someone. He is young, even by elf standards, therefore I believe Morgen Shaederin has left this world and passed his duties to his son. Most likely, he acts to shield the remains of his house, all of whom must be ill or younger than him if he acts alone, as he clearly is. And so far from his home...he must believe that he can keep the Keirveshen away by destroying them in the outlying regions, before they reach the mountains again.”

Tristus frowned with concern, feeling somehow closer to Alere while he learned more about him. “What if the demons return while he’s away?”

“He would not have left his family totally unguarded,” Shirisae answered. “But he also would not have left the region without performing a thorough hunt. It would not be difficult. They seem to be massing in Lower Yvaria currently.”

“I imagine he’ll be home soon anyway,” Tristus said, shrugging. “I don’t know where else he might have gone or...why.”

Tristus’ last word scarcely sounded as his attention became ensnared in the sudden, brilliant glow radiating from the spear strapped to Blue Crane with the rest of his gear. He reached his hand toward
Dawnfire
, feeling its splendid heat through his glove, then looked to Shirisae, who lifted
Firestorm
as it transformed into a veritable beacon of silver, crackling light. Before either of them could say anything, the light began to swell…not evenly, but somehow pressing east, filtering through the trees as if to show a path.

Shirisae peered through the dark woods that were suddenly lit. In a moment, she said, “I see a trail.”

“How?” Tristus wondered. “All evidence of anyone or anything passing should be buried beneath the snow.”

“I see it,” Shirisae insisted, and did not explain herself.

In a moment, the light from the Blades faded to the minimal glow they had been emitting just from being in each other’s company.

The lady elf kept her gaze on the woods and said quietly, “Do we trust it?”

Tristus had an eerie feeling about these woods, but he found reassurance touching
Dawnfire
. He said, “Could we ask for a clearer sign? Alere must have gone that way, chasing shadows maybe. He may need our help.”

“I’ll lead,” Shirisae volunteered, although it sounded more like a command.

Recognizing her strength, as well as her leadership, Tristus agreed. “Guang Ci,” he said to the guard, gesturing for him to join them. The guard came, and the three of them started deeper into the Deepwood.