Six Celestial Swords (40 page)

Even with his eyes closed, the sun’s glow invaded Xu Liang’s vision, hampering his concentration. He meditated as long and soundly as he could, then suffered with the others, glad to see the small ridge of hills suddenly along their path with dark rocks and what appeared to be gnarled tree limbs peeking through the snow. They must finally have been reaching the northernmost end of the Alabaster Range. The last of the mountains stretched sparsely out from the greater mass that dominated much of the realm, like fingers reaching for the cold, distant sea that separated Upper Yvaria from Lower. The path would not ascend quite so high as it did before, but there was meaning in the name Skytown.

In a time too ancient to be considered anything more than myth, Vilciel was said to be the City of Dragons. Unlike the dragons of Sheng Fan, these beasts were more lizard than serpent, with great wings and also great egos to match their tremendous intellects. Such creatures held themselves above mortals, but also among them as they lived in a society rather than as a mystery. They built cities, like Vilciel, perhaps with assistance from enslaved or befriended creatures who could be considered abler craftsmen than them. They also collected wealth, reared families, and waged war with anyone who threatened their way of living, or simply strayed too near. The dragons of the western world were not gods and they were alarmingly civilized, according to legend.

All this, Xu Liang learned from Tarfan and from Tristus, one who spoke of bedtime stories told to young dwarves to make them behave—lest they be captured by the dragons and forced to build them castles—and the other who told of long dead adventurers who sought the riches of the dragons of Vilciel and were never seen again. Naturally, there were conflicts of opinion.

“Have you cracked?” Tarfan blurted. “You scatter-brained pup! You can sit in the broad light of day, telling us about angels with magic cattle prods and—”

“
Dawnfire
...isn’t a cattle prod.” While the knight clearly wanted to maintain a proud, scandalized expression, laughter tried to break through.

The dwarf continued as if Tristus had said nothing, wagging a finger at the mounted knight while he walked below, his cheeks red from more than just the cold. “And utterly fail to acknowledge the possibility that some of those scaly slave-drivers might still be lingering about that city!”

“You don’t know they were slave-drivers,” Tristus said.

“And you don’t know they weren’t!” the old dwarf barked.

“Aren’t,” Xu Liang corrected. “I believe that was the focus of your argument. Whether or not they still exist?”

Tarfan turned his head sharply to glare at the rider on the other side of him. “Don’t you get started, too! You weren’t in on this argument from the start, so you can’t get involved now, mage!”

“He’s the one who asked about the dragons in the first place,” Tristus reminded.

“And he’d have a straight answer if you’d keep your mouth shut!”

Taya, sitting behind Tristus, giggled, understanding—undoubtedly better than any of them—that her uncle would never give in.

The knight groaned. “For the love of...” His voice trailed when he glanced away from Tarfan, and caught sight of something that interested him far more than the dwarf’s argument.

IN THE NEAR HILLS Tristus saw something glittering. He leaned forward in the saddle, knowing somehow and almost at once that it was not merely something, but the very thing that had drawn him into this quest. It was
Dawnfire
!

Tristus took off without even thinking, headed for the hill where the dearly missed spear hung, caught in a tangle of dead wood. Perhaps it had been taken by a winged creature, as Tarfan had suggested, but not the angel. Maybe a demon had tried to claim it and dropped it after the burden of its Heavenly light became too much for it. However, it had come to be here, Tristus knew only that he must have it back and offer it formally to Xu Liang’s cause, with him as its bearer…as God intended.

“Hold on, little one!” he called back to Taya, recalling she was with him when her short arms suddenly clamped about his middle.

“WELL, HERE GOES another horse,” Tarfan grumbled. “He’ll get the poor thing tripped up on a tangle of wood and break its leg, or worse. They’ll be the next creatures of myth at the rate he loses them! And this time he’s got my niece!”

“She would not have it any other way, Tarfan,” Xu Liang said calmly. “And I think I see what he is riding toward with such haste.”

“It’s
Dawnfire
,” Alere said, riding up to join the mystic and dwarf when they stopped. He didn’t sound pleased, and the reason became apparent in his next words. “The thief is near.”

Xu Liang looked at him, reading nothing in the elf’s gray eyes. He knew better than to question the elf’s awareness of such things, but he wished Alere would provide more details with his announcements.

“Why are we stopped?” D’mitri wanted to know, riding back with Shirisae close behind. Even in haste, his golden eyes still managed to find and isolate Alere with a menacing glare.

The white elf scowled in turn, but said to Xu Liang, “We must assist the knight and leave quickly.” And then he moved to act on his words, leaving Xu Liang to explain things to the Phoenix Elves.

TRISTUS REACHED THE base of the hills and glanced back, unaware until that moment of just how far away they’d been from the caravan. He put the matter aside and contemplated the climb ahead of him. The hill was steeper than it looked from a distance, pocked with dives and obstructions that would make it almost impossible to safely take a horse up. It looked soft as well, like there was mud beneath the snow. Roots and dead branches reached out at odd angles. They would make good hand and footholds, Tristus told himself, dismounting.

He eyed the platinum spear, carelessly mounted in a nest of lifeless wood several feet overhead and then looked at Taya. “Wait here,” he said to the flushed lady dwarf, who nodded cooperatively.

After briefly plotting a course, Tristus started up. He trudged through snow that was almost up to his knees and found it no shallower on the hill. That only made it more difficult to plant his feet, which kept sliding in the disheveled layers of powdery ice. He grabbed hold of a promising looking root and began to pull himself up almost on arm strength alone.

Dawnfire
, glorious in the afternoon sun, was almost within his reach when he felt the first tremor. His hold slipped and he dropped back a few feet before he was able to catch himself. He looked down at Taya, seeing now just how high he’d actually climbed.

Thank God the snow is soft
, he thought to himself, then proceeded to climb.

He came to the spear once more, and reached out for it, closing his hand around the shaft, just past the blade, which was aimed toward the ground. His heart all but stopped at the feel of the cool platinum through his gloves and at the sight of its warm glow that seemed to intensify with his touch. “You missed me too, did you? Well, no worries,
Dawnfire
. I’ll never let this happen to you again. I...”

When Tristus pulled the weapon, he found it stuck, the end of the shaft opposite the blade was wound tight in a tangle of frozen vines. He gave
Dawnfire
another useless tug, then began to consider his dagger, though he was reluctant to release the spear now that he had it again.

“Tristus!” Alere called up to him. “Quickly!”

“Just...coming,” Tristus replied, repositioning himself on his root so that he could reach the vines that ensnared
Dawnfire
. He drew his dagger and began to cut. The vines gave up their hold slowly. A second tremor almost jarred his dagger from his grasp. He paused a moment, glancing at the distant caravan waiting calmly for his return. He wondered if they were feeling the minor quakes, then decided they were probably harmless, and resumed his cutting.

“Tristus!” the stark elf below called again.

“Yes, I know! I’m...there!” With one more cut,
Dawnfire
slipped. Tristus sheathed his dagger and took the spear in his hand again. He pulled. The earth shook violently and both the weapon and Tristus dropped.

Tristus was not having near so much trouble with the concept of falling as he was with the concept of the hill rising away from him.

T
RISTUS WOULD NEVER again refer to Fu Ran as a giant, for surely the Fanese warrior—along with everyone else in the company—were mere rodents in size, in comparison to what rose up out of the ice.

On his descent earthward, Tristus held fast to
Dawnfire
with one hand and somehow managed to catch hold of a protruding branch with the other. He came to an abrupt halt and almost lost his grip as his shoulder pulled exquisitely. He set his teeth together, biting back the pain and panic while he glanced down at the suddenly smaller shapes of his companions directly below. He’d ceased to fall and was now rising with the giant.

Below, Alere clearly instructed Taya to leave, slapping her horse on the rump as she turned it about to speed the process along. Tristus watched her speed toward the others, until the great awkward movements of the enormous individual he’d awakened commanded his attention. He swayed precariously, but refused to let go of
Dawnfire
. He would plummet to his death before he would risk losing the spear again. There was no time to consider how irrational that was. His one-handed grip didn’t last long, slipping more with each tremendous surge of motion enacted by the rising giant, and finally failing altogether as the colossus stood fully upright and shed its blanket of snow, casting it in hurtling sheets down upon him.

Tristus was torn from his grasp by the unexpected force of the minor avalanche, and fell the rest of the way to the ground.