Six Celestial Swords

by T. A. Miles

  The man, Tarfan realized suddenly, was no man, but an elf.

  THERE IS NO reason for me to be here, Alere thought to himself.

  And yet, he could not take his eyes off the bearer of the blue sword. The frail man emanated an aura like nothing he had ever seen or felt. It went beyond the strange call of their blades. This man was as a ghost, more spirit than body. It wasn’t a wonder his party had attracted so many of the demons. They thrived on quenching souls. The brighter the soul, the more satisfying its death was to them. The perverse creatures must have been salivating, anticipating this kill.

  Aerkiren had cut their foul, lashing tongues from their devils’ maws. It had taken other parts of them as well; tails, hands, heads...there was not much left of the brood that had been skulking in the deeper night of the Hollowen. While Aerkiren had destroyed them, the other blade had simply stopped them, cold and fearful as Alere had never imagined the shadow folk could be. They were afraid of what drew Alere. They were afraid of the strength of this man’s soul, that had radiated through his sword last night and threatened to destroy them utterly. Still, the Keirveshen’s fear would not last.

  I should be on my way, Alere thought. There are more demons to quell.

  Even as his mind prompted him to move on, his mouth betrayed him by speaking out to the strangers. “Who are you people?” he asked in a tone that spoke neither friend nor foe. He chose the language used by most of the dwarves and men of the south, as the human did not look Yvarian. Of course, the silk-clad stranger did not look Andarian or Calliprian either. Perhaps Treskan.

  The peculiar man stood before Alere had decided on his origin. Pressing his slim hands together, he bowed to Alere. It seemed a gesture of respect, and so Alere inclined his head in return, but he said nothing more, awaiting his answer.

  The man spoke in a familiar tongue but with a strange accent. “I am called Xu Liang. My companion is known as Tarfan Fairwind. We are honored in your presence.”

  Alere’s eyes narrowed as they fell upon the dwarf. He said, as a mere statement of fact, “Dwarves have never been honored in the presence of anyone, least of all an elf of the upper lands.”

  The stout creature folded his arms tightly across his chest and began to grumble, confirming that the old wounds acquired between their people many years ago still had not healed. Alere smiled thinly, and was about to take his leave when the human spoke again.

  “Your sword speaks to mine. Are you not at all curious about what they are saying?”

  “Would you claim to understand the language of swords?” Alere asked, somewhat dubiously.

  “It is the language of siblings yearning to be reunited,” the delicate foreigner replied, and Alere thought fleetingly of his home in the Verres Mountains. Could these strangers somehow help him get back there faster? Were they also seeking to rid Dryth of its demons? He’d studied them long from the forest and seen that there were warriors among them. Warriors led by this sorcerer, who carried an enchanted blade similar to Alere’s? Perhaps.

  Alere glanced down at his own sword, drawn to it as the etchings upon the blade began to shine through its sheath. It was singing...in daylight? That had never happened before, except in the midst of combat.

  Aerkiren, what is it you are saying?

  And then, as if in answer, across the open ground that lay at the edge of the forest, a light began to shine. Alere looked up and saw the human holding out his blade, displaying it as the edges glowed softly blue. Slowly, Alere drew his own blade, and had to squint in the sudden brilliance of both blades shining together.

  XU LIANG SPOKE to the elf of the legend of the Blades, and of his homeland and the events taking place there. In return, the elf gave an account of events that had driven him from his home and his quest to end what he called chaos. Of course, it was a common term for darkness or whatever turmoil a land or people faced, but it was in the inflection of the elf’s voice that Xu Liang experienced the recurring and uncanny sensation of a sameness of meaning, just as he’d felt reading Cai Shi-meng’s scrolls and listening to the gypsy woman. Yes, chaos was the Dragon, affecting all parts of the world as it rose out of its ancient slumber.

  “I do not think my father knew any of this,” the elf, calling himself Alere Shaederin, finally said. He was seated on a rock amidst their camp, staring at the two swords lying flat on the ground between he and Xu Liang. They were glowing still, though not as brilliantly as they had upon their introduction. “He believed the blade was of elven make and I would agree, to look at it.”

  “It may be forged by the hand of an elf,” Xu Liang offered. When Alere silently issued his calm gray gaze, he explained further. “I am not as well versed in the history of the elves as I would like to be, but I understand that your people are as ancient as mine. Great cities were constructed in Sheng Fan while the humans of many western cultures existed with whatever shelter nature provided to them. Your kin filled books with words while those same people were still struggling with the spoken word. The legend speaks of the gods casting their weapons down, but perhaps they only cast inspiration down upon our ancestors.”

  Alere considered. At length, he said, “You speak of a goddess who holds the moon in her robes. It is not my intent to blaspheme, nor do I intend any disrespect toward your beliefs, but is it possible that your goddess and mine are the same, viewed differently?” The elf seemed to replay his own words in his mind, struggling with the notion in spite of how easily it came to him. “The Mother of the Sky protects us beneath her veil,” he started.

  “Could that veil be an extension of Mei Qiao’s robes?” Xu Liang said helpfully. He added simply, “Perhaps.”

  The elf looked again at the swords, both vastly different yet connected through an undeniable sameness. “This is strange,” he whispered. “I have traveled for days and nights, wandered without aim or purpose save to demolish evil where I find it. I don’t know what happened at my home those few years ago that seem so distant. I feel that there is a single source to be blamed and to be found...to be punished, but I know not where to look. These blades coming together may be a sign to follow, but I cannot help wondering it if will lead me astray.”

  Xu Liang considered carefully. The truth was that he could not let the Twilight Blade—the weapon of one of Mei Qiao’s two servants—leave him now that he’d found it. Somehow he had to convince the elf to part with it or to wield it at his side. Neither seemed a reasonable outcome. How could the elf give up a sacred sword that had been in his family for unspecified years, the instrument of his revenge against his parents’ killers? At the same time, how could Xu Liang return to Sheng Fan to confront its direst threat with an elven warrior in tow?

  There were few in Xu Liang’s homeland who were aware of the elves at all, let alone any who recognized them as an accomplished and civilized, as well as reverent, race. Those who had explored outside of Sheng Fan as Xu Liang had were not often as open to what they discovered and frequently rejected it, as they rejected all else not of Fanese origin. As well, this skilled fighter, who’d cut through the shadows like a devil in his own right, made Gai Ping and the others uneasy. Tarfan and his niece did not pose a threat in their eyes, but this one’s cold, colorless gaze offered no comfort, not even to the dwarves.

  Xu Liang had to admit to himself, after hearing Tarfan’s account of the politics between humans and elves in this region, that he was not eager to have an elf quite so near. While Alere seemed completely enrapt in his revenge against all demon kind, what might happen if ingrained prejudices surfaced at just the wrong moment, convincing him that all who were not elf were the same as demon, and just as responsible for the tragedy that had befallen his family?

  “I don’t know you,” Alere said suddenly, and Xu Liang held his breath, his expression calmly neutral. The elf continued. “Yet somehow I believe that I can trust you. I think it is your spirit, speaking to me as the auras of these blades speak to one another.”

  Xu Liang frowned with wonder. “How so?�
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  Alere looked at him, his quiet features revealing nothing. “We elves of the north can see such things, and hear them. Your spirit is very strong, stronger than any I’ve ever come across. I don’t know if it is just your magic, or if it is your nature, but I sense no malevolence. Your spirit speaks of loyalty, as was displayed when the magic of your sword spread to protect all who were with you, rather than just yourself.”

  There was no admiration in the elf’s words. He didn’t even sound friendly when he spoke them, but Xu Liang was moved and inclined to bow his head and thank Alere for his comments.

  “Understand,” the elf continued to say, “that I cannot part with my father’s sword...but I will join you, Xu Liang, on this quest of yours.” He stood and Xu Liang’s eyes followed him. He added tonelessly, “For a time.”

  Xu Liang nodded once more in acceptance to the terms. He watched the elf to his white horse, which he promptly mounted. “Where are you going?”

  “Since I have joined this quest, it is in my interest to clear away the litter that has been trailing at your heels.” With no further explanation, Alere Shaederin turned his mount around and rode quickly back into the deep woods of the Hollowen.

  Xu Liang stood slowly in his wake, and Tarfan arrived beside him.

  “Is he leaving then?” the dwarf asked impatiently.

  “I believe he will return,” Xu Liang answered, still staring into the woods.

  Tarfan muttered an oath to himself and stormed away.

  “What’s happening?” Taya asked, groggily, having recently awakened.

  “We’re keeping the damned elf!” her uncle barked.

  The dwarf maiden yawned. “What elf?”

  ALERE RETURNED TO the forest and waited. As expected, his quarry came to him.

  There were two men, one of them quite tall and strongly built. He could not hide his thick form beneath the heavy cloak he wore. The other had nothing to hide. He was neither tall nor short and possessed a lean frame. Both men were armed. Alere had spied them leaving the town of Nidwohlen during his scout of the woods surrounding it. They departed shortly after Xu Liang’s caravan and kept a telltale distance, wanting to keep up and also to escape detection.

  They had succeeded in neither. Alere had detected them and when the company’s lanterns went out, the pair became disoriented in the dark and fell back to what they considered a safe location to wait for dawn’s light. In that they must have been successful, since the shadow folk had not left them in unsightly shreds throughout the area. Unfortunate for them. Now that task would fall to another hunter.

  When the two humans came into view, Alere drew Aerkiren and guided his strong mare Breigh onto their path. He forewent charging and calling out his war cry, decided instead to give these pitiful brigands one chance at escaping with their lives.

  The cloaked strangers saw him and stopped. They said nothing and for a moment, neither did Alere. He studied them at this nearer distance, and saw nothing of particular interest. The strong man emanated resilience and stubbornness, which among humans was often interchangeable with stupidity. The other seemed simply quiet, withdrawn.

  Finally, Alere said, “I know that you are following a caravan that passed through here last night. I advise you to turn back.”

  The strong man grew instantly rigid and took a step forward.

  Alere didn’t so much as twitch, eyeing him coldly, prepared to do what he must.

  The other man stopped his companion. It took both hands and stepping in front of him, but the strong man eventually came to reason and drew back. The smarter one turned back to face Alere and drew down his hood, revealing a sun-browned human face with stark Yvarian features. He’d cropped his dark hair short and somehow earned a wide scar across his narrow chin.

  Alere wondered if the injury had been acquired before he left his caravan, or after. Gypsies weren’t known as seafarers and these men stunk of brine, something Alere had breathed in too much of on his brief journey across Windra’s Channel getting from Upper Yvaria to Lower. He could almost see the grains of salt embedded in the man’s hardened skin. Without question these two had spent a great deal of their lives on ships.

  “We intend no harm,” the former Yvarian said. “We seek only passage through these woods.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, for a gypsy,” Alere informed him, speaking in tones that would sound even, if not indifferent. It did not matter to him personally, whether or not the man was lying. “It is my best guess that you are acting as the large one’s guide through territory you recall from your childhood. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what lurks in the Hollowen Forest. You dared the wrath of the shadow folk because you could not risk losing the caravan that left Nidwohlen ahead of you.”

  “And just what is it to you?” the strong man demanded, and the other reached back his hand reflexively to stop him coming forward again.

  Alere had nothing to conceal and said truthfully, “I have pledged myself an ally of the man you have been clumsily following. I will let you go no further. Try, if you dare.”

  And that, in spite of his companion’s urging, was as much as the strong man was willing to take. He threw back his hood and reached more swiftly than Alere would have expected for the weapon hidden at his back. He freed the immense blade and dropped it down in front of him, his peculiar foreign features distorted worse with a wide, demonic grin. “I’ve got ten thousand hells in store for you! Choose which one you’d like to see first!”

  A small frown came to Alere’s lips. And then he spurred Breigh forward, raised his sword, and cried out. “Ellum lathar Aerkiren!”

  The strong man seemed somewhat taken aback by the sudden, stark words, but he showed no fear and stared eagerly at his charging opponent. He waited until Alere was almost upon him, then predictably lifted his huge sword to unseat him. Alere gave Breigh the slightest command, which the well-bred mare responded to automatically and agilely, taking him away from the strong man’s reach. He would turn her about quicker than the overgrown human could right the awkward blade in his grip. That was Alere’s intent, but he was struck from his saddle after all, taken out of his seat by a blade he could feel but that he could not see, and which didn’t cut him.

  He had the wind knocked out of him twice—once as the invisible force struck him and again as he hit the ground on his back—but he managed to roll onto his knees to block the next attack. The blades hissed and threw sparks as they connected. And now Alere gave a little smile himself. Unbeknownst to his opponent, Aerkiren negated all other enchantments belonging to any weapon brought against it. The blow was still heavy, but Alere managed to push the giant back and rolled out of range. He rose to his feet, secure in knowing that there would be no invisible extension of the large sword to be concerned with for the remainder of this battle.

  Alere and the giant stalked each other, gradually closing the gap between them.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” The strong man laughed. “A few tricks and quick feet? That’s no way to enforce your bold tongue!”

  The giant hefted his great sword above his head and swung down.

  Alere darted beneath the death arc and slashed at the giant’s side as he ran past him. He felt Aerkiren bite, but didn’t let the blade linger, moving quickly out of range of the sword that was almost as tall as him. He spun about to face the giant, who was readying his powerful weapon again, unconcerned with whatever damage had been done.

  “I can do this all day!” the giant boasted.

  Alere didn’t doubt it, and he didn’t have time for this. He glared coldly. A moment was spent in concentration, then he swung his blade out horizontally and watched an arc of twilight glow leap off the edge of the sleek blade, racing across the open space between him and the giant, who didn’t rely on his disenchanted weapon to save him.

  The man hurled his great body out of the magic’s path, slamming into the forest floor. His cloak trailed him in two pieces. The shortened garment fell against his back, the edg
es still glowing hot as the severed fabric fluttered smoldering to the ground. Now a look of shock came to the giant’s features. And then, slowly, he began to laugh.

  Alere gave a quick glance to the man’s companion, who had at some point found a tree to stand beside, and deemed him no immediate threat. He glared at the giant as the man was standing up, hefting his sword over his back as if to put it away. If they wanted to leave, Alere would let them, but he only granted mercy once to an opponent not of demon origin. If they persisted with their tracking of Xu Liang and the others, however ineffective, he would kill them.

  The giant arranged his sword in its harness, still chuckling. “Xu Liang acquires two things in this world; hell-bent enemies or avid devotees.”

  “You’re wrong,” Alere informed him, relaxing his stance, but keeping his blade out. “I am neither.”

  The giant shrugged. “Give it time.”

  “I find you strange and annoying,” Alere told him. “Whatever your relation to the Fanese sorcerer, you seem to me to pose a future problem. I may have to do away with you after all.”

  “I don’t like you either, sprite, but...”

  “I am an elf. And you are doing very little to appeal to any sense of mercy I may have had toward you.”

  The giant’s all but forgotten companion intervened, stepping away from his tree. “He’s Fanese by birth and Aeran by adoption. You’ll have to forgive him his lacking grasp of the languages of this region.” He took another step. “I say again; we intend no harm. Xu Liang was recently aboard our ship. We have a message for him.”

  “Then why do you skulk behind like rats instead of presenting him with this message?”

  “There hasn’t been—”

  Alere showed the man his sword as he came closer.

  The gypsy stopped and Alere summoned Breigh to him with a click of his tongue.

  He said to the strangers, “I do not trust you. However, since you are unskilled assassins whom I will have no trouble dispatching, I will allow you to make your way to Xu Liang to present this supposed message.”