Six Celestial Swords Page 10

  Tarfan gave his friend a space of silence, then said, “You’ve got uprisings in your empire and here you are agonizing about not being there. A fair guess would be that you’re not here to draw maps and paint landscapes.”

  The faintest smile drew to Xu Liang’s lips. “No, my friend.”

  In the brief silence that followed, the uncharacteristic look of chagrin overshadowed the mage’s calm mien once again. “As much as I have dedicated my life to supporting the Song family, I have surrendered it to the study of artifacts. There are six in particular that I must find for the Empress, as quickly as possible. You see, it is not the uprisings that I fear, but the Dragon.”

  THE STORY OF the dragon Chaos unfolded in all its culturally preserved wonder, excluding no detail, even as the storyteller was forced to take pauses when considering Calliprian words that would satisfy the Fanese legend. The language being spoken was not exclusive to Callipry, and was perhaps better known as the common tongue of men and dwarves in the region expanding farther west and into the south. It had a broad range of words to choose from, but Xu Liang hadn’t quite grasped how to use all of them appropriately and as well the slower—for lack of a better word—tongue of the western world seemed to extract much of the grace from the telling of the ancient story.

  Somehow Xu Liang managed to get through it and when he opened his eyes at the end of his tale, he saw that his audience sat enthralled. Either that, or they were utterly befuddled.

  Tarfan’s mouth hung open and his brow furrowed while he pondered the legend, or the words themselves. His niece sat wide-eyed beside him, seeming uncertain whether to smile wistfully or frown skeptically. A humorous amalgamation of both expressions adorned her round face.

  And then, finally, Tarfan said, “You can’t be serious!”

  Xu Liang gently asked, “About what?”

  The dwarf seemed shocked by the return question. He looked to his niece—who shrugged—then back at Xu Liang. He shook his head tersely. “You can’t sit there and tell me that you—a highly educated man—believe some prehistoric lizard is going to stir awake under the earth, tear his way out, and send us all into oblivion!”

  Xu Liang raised his eyebrows in amusement, and with some relief. “I don’t believe that I did.”

  Flustered, the dwarf folded his arms tightly across his chest. “Well, what are you saying then?” he grumbled.

  “There are truths in legend, but all legend is not to be taken as truth,” Xu Liang said, and he selected his next words carefully. “I know that the Celestial Blades exist, that they are magical and connected to one another, even if they were not delivered to us by the Ancient Gods.”

  Tarfan nodded gruffly. “All right. I follow you. You want the Swords, but what about the dragon attacking your empress? You did say dragon, if you’ll recall.”

  Xu Liang inclined his head. “Yes. And the legend spoke of Spirit Dragons, shadowy guardians of the Infernal Regions. Perhaps what threatens Sheng Fan is an entity without physical form, an ancient spirit trapped and looking to escape after a long sleep. I know that there are living dragons in the world. I have seen one now myself, and felt its majestic presence.” Xu Liang closed his eyes and held the memory for a moment when it surfaced. Then he sighed. “In Sheng Fan, I have felt another great presence, though it is of no mortal creature. Something awakens, and while I may not know precisely what it is, I know that it must be stopped and that the Swords are the key to its undoing.”

  The dwarves stared at him for a long, silent moment.

  And then Tarfan asked, “What makes you think they’re here?”

  Patiently, Xu Liang said, “Lend me one of your maps and I will show you.”

  Tarfan reached into his haversack cooperatively and eventually fished out a rolled parchment, one of several. He leaned forward and spread it across the small table as Xu Liang slid his own map aside. As expected, it showed a detailed illustration of the western continent and a portion of a southern one as well. Xu Liang made a few precise folds on his own map, which displayed what he knew of the east. It included Neidra and the southwestern continent of Dehura, which was separated from Sheng Fan by a small sea, as well as Aer to the north and also the uppermost continent to the west of Aer called Yvaria. After making the careful folds, he slid his map over Tarfan’s, bringing the known world together. The dwarvish characters beside those of the Fanese writing system presented an encouraging contrast.

  “There,” Xu Liang said quietly. “What do you see?”

  The dwarf squinted and considered. At length he said, “I see a deformed horseshoe.”

  Xu Liang suppressed a laugh. He turned the map around so that it faced the dwarf right-side up, then traced the outer edges of the continents with one finger, connecting them where the oceans kept them apart, beginning with Dehura. “Look closely, my friend, and see here, the snout...and the edge of its crest as its head is turned just so...its neck curled with its body…” He traced the northern continents. “The back arcing here...”

  “I don’t see it,” Tarfan grumbled.

  “I do!” his niece spoke up proudly. She leaned over the map. “Here’s where its leg would be tucked.” She bit her lip, then stabbed southeastern Xun and southwestern Neidra respectively, connecting the two with an imaginary line. “The eyes would be here and here, and the brow would come across like this.” She lifted her hand and studied the image she was creating in her mind. “But it doesn’t have a tail, unless it’s under the ocean.”

  Xu Liang lightly touched her small hand as it jabbed at the southern Sea of Kryden, and slid it to the beginnings of a land labeled Cadihn on Tarfan’s map. “Or unless it begins here and curls just below the body, and we simply haven’t discovered it yet.”

  Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she slipped her hand away. “Oh,” she said softly and sat back, looking at the small rug beneath them and the table.

  “That’s as vague as the constellations,” Tarfan complained.

  “And yet,” Xu Liang argued patiently, “the constellations hold significant meaning to almost all peoples.”

  “So what’s your point? I thought you weren’t taking that legend literally.”

  Xu Liang thought a moment, then said, “Remember that the dragon was referred to in the legend as Chaos. The Swords are weapons against chaos. Weapons against the dragon.”

  Tarfan kept his green eyes on the map, and slowly shook his head. Finally, flustered, he threw his hands out. “Confound it, mage! Are you going to explain all of this to me, or are you going to make me figure it out myself? If it’s the latter, get me a large ale and I’ll see you in the morning!”

  Xu Liang sighed. There were times when the dwarf’s patience proved as stunted as his frame. “It is my theory that the legend not only explains how such impressive items as the Celestial Swords came into being, but that it might also suggest where they can be found, using the dragon as a map and the map of Dryth as the dragon. Supporting the theory is ‘Pang Xiu’s Manual for Slaying a Dragon’.”

  Both dwarves looked at him.

  “Whose manual for what?” Taya blurted.

  Xu Liang waved his hand dismissively. “It’s an obscure manuscript, I know, but even the strangest writings can be useful when regarded properly.” He pointed to the map again. “According to the manual there are six vital points to every dragon; the heart, stomach, spine, lungs, and each of its eyes…and these points are where one must attack it.”

  “Hey! You said there were six swords,” Taya recalled, smiling again as her enthusiasm returned.

  Xu Liang nodded and continued. “As the manual reads: ‘Stab through its eyes and it cannot see. Cut open its stomach and it cannot eat. Severe its spine and it cannot move. Puncture its lungs and it cannot breathe. Impale its heart and it must die.’ By coincidence or intent, the Spear of Heaven and Pearl Moon were acquired, one in Xun and one in Du…which lies just to the north and east of Neidra.”

  “The second eye,” Taya pointed out.
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  “Yes,” Xu Liang said. “And both were brought here, to the Imperial City.”

  “Which is just above where the first eye would be,” the young dwarf said.

  Finally, Tarfan joined in. “If those are the eyes, then that would make Upper Yvaria the spine,” the dwarf said, stabbing the Northern Continent with one stout finger.

  Xu Liang hated to contradict him, now that he’d decided to become involved, but… “Recall that chaos has returned to the world. The Dragon is awakening. As it uncurls its body the different parts move. I know this is drastic, but I believe the spine is rather here.” He touched Tarfan’s illustrated line of rigid mountains curving through the lands of Lower Yvaria and Andaria.

  “The Alabaster Range,” Tarfan mumbled thoughtfully. “I suppose it does have a certain spinal look about it. Well…what about the organs, then? The beast’s midsection seems to be submerged.”

  “Chaos was considered a creature of evil,” Xu Liang said. “Perhaps the heart would be cold. Upper Yvaria?”

  Tarfan shrugged. “What about Aer?”

  Xu Liang shook his head. “I have searched Aer for many years and found nothing. I believe, if any of the other Swords had been discovered they would have been mentioned in local legend or rumors.”

  “And the lungs? As I hear it, dragons breathe fire. The deserts of Cadihn are about as hot as hot comes.”

  “Perhaps so, but the lungs and the heart are close to one another in the body. Again, I will look to the Northern Continent.”

  “That leaves the stomach,” Tarfan said. “The stomach relates to food. I imagine a dragon would require a lot of it. Maybe a lot of mutton.” He pulled at his thick whiskers for a moment, then stabbed the map.

  Xu Liang, whose ideas on the location of the stomach had been faltering, looked eagerly.

  The dwarf explained the large nation he’d selected. “You’ll find no place that raises more sheep and sustains more pastures than Treska, the land of the ignorant, aggressive, self-deluded, common man.”

  Xu Liang overlooked the dwarf’s less than generous appraisal of Treska’s inhabitants and said, “That’s far from here.”

  Tarfan nodded and lifted his finger. “Through the elven lands. The Shillan elves aren’t so bad, but the Zaldaine are a sure pain in the backside. Elitists, the lot of them, and warlike. Worse than your people, if you’ll forgive my saying so.”

  “Of course,” Xu Liang replied absently, his concentration on the large nation of Treska and the various routes to it. Not only were there the lands of the elves to consider, there was also a great river that nearly split the Western Continent down the middle. It drew out of the Andarian mountains, seeming to almost intentionally divide the elves and humans before splitting the southern nation of Caleddon and branching off into various parts of the Sea of Orlan.

  Tarfan saw what Xu Liang studied. “They call it The Strand, ironically. It’s the biggest river in all Dryth. At least, the biggest I’ve ever come across. Big enough to serve as an effective natural border between lands better off separated. There’d be a river of blood if not water.”

  Xu Liang looked up, startled by this information.

  “Elves and humans have despised one another since their creation,” Tarfan said. “The humans of the western land can never seem to have enough power, following the will of one god, whom they believe is the wisest and most just, and who must therefore cancel all others. The elves look down on men as a lot of hideous, blasphemous brutes who defile everything they touch. There may be some truth in that, considering some men I’ve met, but unfortunately, ordinary men breed much faster than elves. And they have a strange knack for accomplishment. They’ll have this land, someday, then maybe they’ll look to Sheng Fan, where—judging by its size and what I’ve learned of your people—they’ll be soundly thrashed.”

  Not if Sheng Fan destroys itself from within, Xu Liang thought miserably.

  They all looked at the map for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

  And then Tarfan said, “It’s pretty far-fetched.”

  “I know,” Xu Liang admitted. “But the Ancient Gods have some say in this as well. In the legend, it was the sun and the moon, each with two servants, that gave up their beloved weapons. The sun rises in the east—Sheng Fan, where the spear wielded by Cheng Yu was discovered. The moon was shining full the night before the sword of Mei Qiao came into my possession. This place is called Stormbright.”

  Tarfan considered. At length, he said, “There’s no such blade in these parts. I can tell you that much certainly. Anyway Callipry doesn’t seem to fit with your ‘dragon anatomy’ theory. Yvaria, on the other hand, does. You’ll not get a worse storm than that which brews in the Flatlands just north of the Alabaster Range. Most your worst storms occur during the peak of the day. There’s one of your sun god’s servants...maybe.”

  It was Xu Liang’s turn to consider. “Perhaps,” he said, thankful that he might have found a destination. Wandering without aim wasted so much precious time.

  The dwarf seemed to be in the midst of a brainstorm. He tapped the Northern Continent next and said seriously, “Night lasts the longest here, right where you said the creature’s icy heart should be.”

  “It’s something to start with,” Xu Liang said, sitting back. “And it’s more than I hoped for when I left my homeland. I thank you.”

  Tarfan stood, his eyes filled with adventure. “Thank me when we find those blades, mage! I’m coming with you!”

  “YVARIA?” TAYA WAILED. “Are you out of your mind? I can’t go to Yvaria!”

  “Don’t be difficult,” Tarfan said, carefully packing his haversack after returning home and emptying it. “We were setting off to Shillan this morning. It’s no farther away. We just need a few different things to cope with the colder air.” He picked up a flask and stroked it lovingly. “Something warmer to drink,” he murmured before tucking the brandy away.

  “I can’t go to Yvaria!” Taya insisted.

  “Then stay here!” Tarfan barked. He looked around his cluttered cabin set in the forest well away from the Stormbright Caverns.

  He preferred life above ground, someplace easier to get to when he returned from a long trip. He was a dwarf that defied tradition, rejecting any tools that weren’t helpful in climbing mountains rather than digging through them. It upset his family for a long time, but they remembered his name easily enough in a pinch, most recently when Taya’s parents passed away. Tarfan was the oldest brother of twelve. It was his responsibility to take in his orphaned niece. He did and it had not been easy. Three years of adolescent mayhem! She’d been struck with wanderlust as well; the intense desire to wander as far away from authority as she could get. She would probably jump at the chance to be left alone and to fend for herself, even in this nightmare of things out of place.

  The young dwarf woman stamped her foot. “You said we were going to leave Stormbright this season and go someplace exciting! What’s exciting about a gigantic heap of cold rocks?”

  Tarfan went back to his packing at the round table in the center of the main room. “Weren’t you listening to Xu Liang, about the dragon and the magic swords?”

  “The dragon isn’t real, and getting eaten isn’t exciting. It’s disgusting. Anyway, why should we be concerned about his magic swords? I think he’s crazy.”

  “Oh...crazy. I see. That’s why you were as enthusiastic as a knee-tall youngster in a baker’s kitchen when you saw the dragon’s image in those maps.”

  Tarfan picked up his fattest journal, bound in green leather, featureless except for a small silver stamp in the shape of a leafy tree, a shield traced around it—not as a militaristic symbol, but as a sign of guardianship. To the elves of Shillan the tree itself represented the harmonious growth of nature and knowledge, both theirs to protect. It was a Shillan scholar who’d given Tarfan the blank book, as a token of friendship. If not for their intolerant cousins to the south, the Shillan elves might just have made for good neig
hbors, for men as well as for dwarves.

  He was reminded of his friend from the distant east and slipped the journal in his bag, along with a quill and a bottle of ink. Then he closed it up and turned to his young niece, whose face was flushed with silent embarrassment.

  “I’m going with the mage,” he concluded. “You can come along, or you can stay here and sort through this mess, and wait to have all your questions about Fanese myth and legend answered when I get back.”

  “All right,” Taya gave in, as Tarfan knew she would once he piqued her curiosity. “But I still have a bad feeling about this.”

  “I’ll document that later. Xu Liang’s camp is a couple hours away and daylight’s fading. I don’t want him to think we changed our minds.”

  XU LIANG HAD turned the topic of discussion as was necessary to make it acceptable to the dwarves, who he’d found to be very practical, if not very stubborn creatures. Tarfan’s reaction to the possibility of a resurrected dragon god came as closed as he should have expected. Xu Liang didn’t know himself whether or not he believed it himself, but the tremors beneath his homeland were real and growing in intensity. Soon it would not take one as sensitive as he had trained to be to feel them. And they were not normal quakes. Something was rising in Sheng Fan, something terrible.

  Take heart, my Empress. I have found an ally who will assist me in finding the others. He knows these lands well and he is worthy of your trust.

  “You were hurt, my brother.”

  I am well. You must not trouble yourself with such concerns. It is you that the land needs most of all.