Six Celestial Swords (30 page)

“An angel!” Tarfan blurted, stepping out of the tent as well. “You hit your head, boy, and had a bad dream!”

“Think me mad if you wish, Master Fairwind,” Tristus said, with alarming respect for one who had been treated as poorly as he had by the dwarf. “I know what I saw. More importantly, I know what I felt. Even if he wasn’t an angel, he was real. And he entrusted his weapon to me. I’ll never forgive myself for misplacing it.”

“You’ve misplaced your senses, knight! Anyway, you said the fellow had wings. And you also said that you never saw his dead body after he claimed he was dying. How do you know he didn’t just drift down, reclaim his weapon after he realized his error, and then fly away without leaving a trail for the elf to see?”

“I don’t know that,” Tristus replied. “But I doubt it.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I was there, old one, and you were not.”

“He does have a point, Tarfan,” Xu Liang said, at the risk of temporarily alienating his stout friend once again.

The dwarf grumbled a bit, then sighed and went back inside.

“These lands are long,” Alere said next. “It will take many days to cover before we arrive at Windra’s Channel.”

“From there we will be heading into Upper Yvaria,” Xu Liang observed. “And if there was an opportunity to have discovered one of the Swords here, I will have missed it.”

“Unless
Dawnfire
is that opportunity,” Tristus said. “In which case, I will stay here and look for it until it is in my grasp again. Then I shall head north, seeking you out. I will present the weapon to you, for whatever purpose you need it.”

Xu Liang looked at him, seeing only traces of his profile in the light escaping through the tent’s entrance. “Why?” he asked irresistibly.

Tristus gave his answer to the snow-filled sky. “Because I feel that your cause is noble, whatever it may be. And because you and the others saved my life when you could have left me to freeze. I will assist all of you in any way I can...so long as you will have me.”

Xu Liang didn’t dare let the opportunity slip by him. He said quietly, “You are welcome, Tristus Edainien, and you have my thanks. However, know that I cannot return to my Empress without all of the weapons I seek. You should know as well that these weapons are coming together and my actions only hasten their reunion. If you are the bearer of the Dawn Blade, our paths will not stray far, nor for long.”

Tristus lowered his gaze. “Your empress...I can only imagine.” His thoughts seemed to stray for a moment, then he asked. “And what is your station, Master Xu Liang?”

“I am a scholar and an officer of the Imperial Court,” he answered. “Tutor and advisor to my Empress. I serve her best as Imperial Tactician, responsible for the defense of the Imperial City and its interests, which have been known on several occasions to take me away from the Imperial City itself. I am a guided aeromancer—guided by my ancestors to call upon the winds in service of my Empress. I have been chosen by Mei Qiao to wield her sword,
Pearl Moon
, one of the six Celestial Swords given to man by the gods to protect this world from chaos.”

Tristus looked at him. A weak smile utterly failed on his lips. “I guessed you were important, but I never would have...” He shook his head as words seemed to fail him as well. And then he said, “Things must be very different in Sheng Fan.”

“They are,” Xu Liang confirmed.
And I miss it very much
, he added to himself.

T
HE NIGHT PASSED without event. The morning began with a strange sense of stillness.

Taya emerged from the tent early to find Tristus already up, silhouetted among the sparse trees against the rising sun as he stood alone several paces away from the camp. He was looking up at the sky and did not notice her staring at the lonely image he painted. She’d started breakfast by the time the knight wandered back and greeted her with one of his unhappy smiles, as if the lightless expression hid the sheen of tears in his blue eyes. He offered to help and she let him, happy that she didn’t have to bark at him for assistance like she did the others. All except Xu Liang, who she didn’t dare to ask and who’d probably never prepared a meal or even considered washing a dish in his life. The bodyguards seemed to handle all of the mundane tasks for him as well as for themselves. The elf partook of the meals when he was around, but he was always too quick to get away before Taya could tell him it was his turn to give the stew pot a rinse in some melted snow. Fu Ran and Bastien were simply slobs, apparently used to someone else doing the kitchen chores aboard their ship, and Tarfan had never been a tidy dwarf. Tristus, on the other hand, being a soldier who might have had to spend weeks or months in a war campaign, had been taught to make the best of life away from the conveniences of home, and to do it in a clean and orderly fashion. Though Tristus admitted that the Knights of Eris had not recently seen much for war, the training still held, as did his manners.

“How can you sleep in all of that metal?” Taya asked him, simply to pass the time.

The knight looked at his own armor, as if he’d forgotten he was wearing the well-kept layers of chain and plate mail—only enough to cover vital areas, but it still seemed heavy and uncomfortable. Then he shrugged and proceeded to slice one of the last whole carrots from Taya’s pouch into the tiny pot that barely made enough stew for those eating it to have a taste. They had plenty of jerked meats, biscuits, and even some dried fruit to live on, but in this cold region it was nice to have something warm to eat.

“You’ve seen how much trouble it can be for me to strap on all of this armor,” Tristus said pleasantly. “I dare not ask all of you to wait for me every morning.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Taya offered, dropping a few dried greens into the pot.

“But as you’re especially kind to me, I think I’ll continue to sleep in my layers” Tristus said. “Anyway I’m sure it’s my armor that’s protected me from the claws of those demons and given me a fair chance to strike back. I’d hate to be unprepared should they attack again in the night.”

“Isn’t it heavy?”

“Very,” Tristus replied. “But I’ve worn heavier suits, bulkier than this. In the past, particularly in full cavalry gear, I’ve felt like I was wearing a giant kettle. Men have nearly suffocated from the weight falling down in such a harness, but sometimes it’s necessary. What you see here is much lighter than it looks and offers almost normal mobility. The responsibilities and expectations placed upon a commanding knight allow for nothing less.”

“That’s a grand general’s suit you’re wearing, pup!” Tarfan blurted while he joined them outside the tent. He snapped up Taya’s spoon and prodded the stew experimentally, wrinkling his nose. “Most grand generals I’ve met are quite a bit older than you.”

Tristus didn’t look at the elder dwarf. He glared at the carrot as he sliced it. “This is my father’s armor, Master Fairwind.”

“Is it?” Tarfan persisted, putting his typical choke hold—born of stubbornness and meanness—onto the poor knight. “Where’s yours?”

“I...it...” Tristus’ face was reddening, as were his eyes.

“Lost it? Wrecked it maybe?” Tarfan dropped the spoon in the pot and set his fists on his hips. “Or maybe you never had one!”

“I had to leave it behind!” Tristus shouted. Then he cried out again as he nicked his finger. He dropped the carrot and the knife, drawing his injured hand reflexively to his body and scowling at Tarfan. “I told you before I’m not a boy playing soldier! I am a Knight of Eris! If you must know, I held the rank of captain! I inherited this armor from my father when he died in service to the Order!” The tears were rolling down his cheeks, but he ignored them. “He died in an ambush staged against a priest he’d been accompanying on duty! He fought alone against nearly a dozen men while that fat cleric and his personal guard escaped! They abandoned him. They abandoned me as well, and I don’t see how it’s any of your business!”

Taya reached out a hand to him, but he shied away, standing. “And now there’s blood in the soup,” he choked. He spun about and left, mumbling something about how they didn’t have any more carrots. Taya didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but she did have the presence of mind to snatch the spoon out of the pot and soundly knock her unfeeling uncle on the head.

“Ow!” Tarfan complained. “Is it my fault the lad’s emotional?”

TRISTUS WALKED AWAY without looking back. Escape was the only thing on his mind. Unfortunately, there was no place to hide in the wide open region, not unless he wanted to run about a mile to one of the long-dead trees that were somehow still standing on the broken landscape. He tried to lose himself in their small camp instead, heading for the horses, where he leaned against the nearest one, crying like a boy half his age might. It had been so long since he’d had anyone to hold onto, or to offer him the merest physical comfort that he actually felt calmed by the impassive animal. He lifted his arms around the gentle beast’s neck, and buried his face in its soft pelt, letting the tears fall as they may. He didn’t want to hate any member of the group, but he was beginning to strongly dislike the old dwarf.

“It’s because he’s right,” Tristus murmured, forcing himself to draw a breath, though it rarely did any good once he’d given himself to a fit. “It’s true...I have no right to wear this armor.”

He continued on for several moments, despising his weakness, despising himself. When he felt eyes on him, he stopped and peered slowly over his arm at the old Fanese guard. He coughed in his embarrassment and lack of breath, then slipped away from the horse the man was attempting to gear up for the day’s journey.

“Forgive...me. I didn’t realize...” He stopped himself, recalling that the man spoke only Fanese. Awkward didn’t begin to describe the way he felt about the fate God had granted him.

GAI PING WATCHED the young barbarian, faltering in evident apology. The boy’s face was streaked with tears, defying the strength his armor suggested and the bravery he’d shown in battle against the winged devils.

“That is no way for a warrior to behave,” he said, knowing that the youth didn’t understand him. He hoped anyway that he would understand his firm tone and stern expression. It was in evidence that he needed a father’s words at the moment and Gai Ping, already grandfather of three, felt himself suitably qualified for the task, in spite of certain language barriers.

He hefted Blue Crane’s saddle up into place and began buckling it onto the calm animal, keeping his eyes on the young barbarian. “I can see that others ridicule you, take advantage of your…”

Gai Ping stopped momentarily when he heard his words echoing strangely. It was Lord Xu Liang’s voice, trailing his, speaking in the barbarian tongue as he approached, so that the boy could understand.

Appreciative of his master’s timing and eloquence, he continued. “They take advantage of your fear and the sadness you carry. Show them no fear and use your sadness as a strength, let it feed your resolve instead of breaking it down.”

When Lord Xu Liang finished translating, the boy looked shamefaced at the ground and soon left without saying anything. Gai Ping returned to the task in front of him.