Six Celestial Swords Read online

  An example came to mind: Du—residing on the farthest western border of Sheng Fan—harbored steadily evolving ambitions of becoming a separate nation in and of itself. It would not be so, not so long as at least one member of the Song family remained who could be placed and kept upon the throne of the Empire, offering enough stability to the land to hold such ambitions at bay. However, posing a more urgent threat was the Xun Kingdom, to the south of the Imperial City, who wanted simply to bring down the Song and begin a new dynasty of its own. It was a constant struggle to keep the rebellious governors mollified or beaten back and, unfortunately, it was too late to revoke power that had already been given without provoking costlier civil battles.

  And now the Empress was under attack from another source as well. One whose roots carried back to the very creation of Sheng Fan and whom no one, including Xu Liang, expected to see in their lifetime.

  The oldest of the bodyguards, Gai Ping, positioned his horse alongside Xu Liang’s, placing himself between his master and the young guard he’d previously reprimanded. “My lord,” he beckoned with respect. When Xu Liang looked at him, silently inviting him to speak further, he said, “I know that you can see things as other men cannot, but the air disturbs me. The others are uneasy as well. Should we quicken our pace?”

  “No,” Xu Liang replied quietly. He looked away from the man and again caught a spectacular view of the sky gleaming orange over the river as the sun departed from the sky. “Moving at a rushed pace would only attract attention. If there is someone here to be concerned with, they are going to be a concern regardless of how quickly we arrive at the inevitable conflict.”

  “You sense something, then?”

  Xu Liang shook his head. “I sense nothing here, but I trust your instinct, which leads me to believe that the disturbance awaits us in the village, or will come from there. In fact, … here it comes now.”

  As he was speaking, Xu Liang returned his gaze to the upcoming river settlement, where a well-armored man on horseback rode out to meet them.

  The stranger stopped at the edge of the village, wearing a grim smile on his broad, bearded countenance while no less than ten armed men scrambled to catch up with him on foot. As the peons arrived they took up a defensive stance in front of their evident commander.

  Xu Liang drew his mount to an eventual halt and held his arm out, silently instructing his bodyguards to do the same. Xu Liang studied the men on the ground and assessed by their common appearance that they were little more than bandits, men paid for the use of their sword arms.

  Paid by whom?

  “The famed Xu Liang of the Imperial City,” the man on horseback said with tremendous confidence and very little respect. Perhaps it had not yet been earned in his eyes. “Can it be?”

  Xu Liang looked to the speaker on horseback. The man bore no symbols or colors anywhere on his person that would readily indicate his lord, if he served one. The man’s attire appeared mostly blue, a shade too pale to belong to the Blue Dragon of the Ji Kingdom. Besides, Ji housed the Imperial City, or had rather been formed around it, like armor for the breast to protect the heart. No one of Ji’s military would dare impose so vile and flagrant an act of treachery before one of the Imperial Court. Xu Liang knew this not so much through personal pride, as through the pride of others. He knew that one who disagreed with Ji this strongly would not impersonate the Blue Dragon, as it would embarrass and dishonor them to in any way bear the flag of an opponent. A warrior this bold would, without question, speak openly against his enemies, with his appearance as well as his words and actions. Xu Liang thus concluded that this man was a rogue, and not one to be taken lightly. The size of his pole-axe and how easily he balanced it while mounted suggested tremendous strength.

  The rogue’s eyes narrowed coolly in Xu Liang’s appraising silence. “I’ve heard rumors that you are very wise and also quite beautiful. It pleases me to see that the rumors were only half true.”

  Unmoved, Xu Liang said, “Really? And which half would you be referring to?”

  The stranger laughed. It was a deep sound that could easily put fear into the hearts of defenseless peasants. “You’re nothing more than the Empress’ ornamental bird.” He lifted his pole-mounted blade. “I have nothing against birds, Xu Liang, but I must strike you down!”

  “We do what we must,” Xu Liang answered.

  He had no sooner done so when the men on foot charged. The bodyguards responded in turn, spurring their horses forward to intercept. That left the nameless rogue and Xu Liang facing each other across several yards of open ground.

  Xu Liang detested violence, particularly at this level, but he understood that in some instances it proved necessary. In this instance, the rogue was barring his passage into the village and more importantly, to the vessel he needed to board in order to carry out his duties to his Empress. He held steady and watched his opponent approach at a full charge.

  We do what we must.

  The rogue spun his blade once above his head, then drew his arm back, preparing to swipe Xu Liang from his own mount as the gap between them drew smaller. It would not be so easy.

  Xu Liang closed his left hand, leaving two fingers raised, and held it just in front of him at chest level. Then he closed his eyes, extended his right arm, and whispered a brief phrase.

  “None of your magic!” the rogue cried out, but too late.

  The wind was already lifting strands of Xu Liang’s long hair and it lifted the stranger’s blade when he struck against the spell, curbing the pole-axe at an awkward arc above the intended victim’s head. The rogue managed to hold onto the shaft of his weapon, but he was forced to charge past his opponent and circle back for another attempt.

  Xu Liang opened his eyes to the clash ahead of him, taking the time only to note that all of his bodyguards were still mounted, except for one, and that that one appeared uninjured, fending off two opponents at once. A member of the rogue’s gang of bandits already lay motionless in the short grass.

  Such a foolish waste, Xu Liang thought, then turned his mount around to confront his own attacker, who was coming back. Xu Liang crossed his arms in front of himself, then drew them apart not too slowly, and thrust both hands outward. The air shimmered faintly, and a soft blue radiance preceded the sudden, brief eruption of wind that shot across the grass, pushing both the oncoming horse and its rider backwards.

  The rogue took the brunt of the spell while the alarmed horse reared back, effectively spilling its rider onto the ground. The man was forced to let go or be dragged by the frightened animal as it turned and fled. The rogue landed on his back, but didn’t stay there for long. On his feet once more, he wielded the pole-axe with two hands. After cursing Xu Liang, he charged again, impressing him. Many would have given up after being struck from their horse, assuming that every attack would be countered as effortlessly as the first two. But then, maybe this man knew that the attacks hadn’t been countered effortlessly.

  Xu Liang closed his eyes and his left hand again. He uttered a soft chant, pointing his right hand at his opponent, who found himself caught in a sudden updraft of magical force and lifted several feet off the ground. The rogue cried out as the ground abandoned him, grunting when it returned more quickly than he’d been raised from it as Xu Liang’s spell-casting hand lowered. Xu Liang heard his victim hit with a thud that at least took the air out of his lungs if it didn’t break anything. He opened his eyes to see the man slowly rising, coughing as he tried to recapture his breath.

  Xu Liang couldn’t help but to smile just a little. “You are beginning to intrigue me. I am rapidly losing interest in defeating you at all. Perhaps we can cross words instead?”

  “No words can save you, sorcerer,” the rogue growled. He took a step forward, cutting the air between them with his blade. “Now, fight me!”

  “You will fight me!” someone else decreed. Less than a second after the words were issued, the young bodyguard dashed past Xu Liang, toward the rogue.

 
; In the suddenness of the moment, Xu Liang recalled the youth’s name, and called out to him. “Guang Ci!”

  The guard did not listen. With the cruel smile of a wolf, his opponent waited for him, and swung. Red clashed against the evening sky as the young man was flung aside.

  Xu Liang replied to this offense without warning. He performed the wind thrust spell again, but rather than using it to jolt the man as he had before, he channeled much more strength into it—the same strength he might have exerted physically in weapons’ combat—drawn from the mind and spirit rather than muscle. Disks of soft, colorful light surrounded Xu Liang, seeming to radiate from him and then fall away as the powerful magic stored within him began to show itself. The wind responded at once, found its aim, and sent the rogue skidding and somersaulting over the grassy earth. Xu Liang expected the man was dead when he finally came to a stop out of view in the distant grayness of evening, but he did not bother to investigate.

  Xu Liang’s immediate concerns were for his fallen guard. He did not go to him, but closed his eyes and found the man’s heartbeat. He followed its rhythm through the wounded guard’s blood, to every pulse point and knew that death would not be the outcome. The rogue’s blade had cut under his armor, but not in a vital area. More than anything it was the shock of the blow keeping the young guard down. Like Xu Liang, he was now also impressed with the man’s strength.

  Gai Ping approached and knelt down just behind Xu Liang. “Nine of them fell to our blades, my lord. The last one fled.”

  “Who do you suppose they were?” Xu Liang wondered aloud, recovering quickly from his exertion, and from the brief rise of panic and anger that had inspired it.

  The elder bodyguard gave an easy reply. “They were foolish men, bandits who made the mistake of underestimating you, my lord.”

  Xu Liang refrained from smiling. He asked, “Are there many bandits known to this region? One would think that the villagers would complain. A small community such as this could ill afford to be frequently, or even infrequently, troubled by such destructive men.”

  “Perhaps that was the reason they came,” the older guard suggested. “Because the village would be unclaimed and unsuspecting.”

  “Perhaps,” Xu Liang allowed, but he would not satisfy himself with so simple an explanation. The bandits’ leader knew him. At least, he knew who to expect—who he was waiting for, at the behest of an unknown enemy.

  “My lord,” someone else said, speaking in a low, strained voice. It was not strained as a result of weakness or injury, so much as with shame.

  Xu Liang looked down at Guang Ci kneeling before him and realized with a glance toward the river that the young guard had lifted himself and walked without assistance from the place where he had been violently flung. Xu Liang would have sent another man to aid him. The guard’s injury may not have been mortal, but surely the attack had taken something from him. However, Guang Ci showed no sign of being in pain, in spite of the dark stain spreading over his armor, just beneath his left arm.

  “I have disgraced you,” the reckless youth admitted. “And I have proven that I cannot perform my duty to protect you. I accept my punishment.”

  “Don’t you think that being swatted to the ground by a very large blade is punishment enough?”

  Positioned above the kneeling guard, Xu Liang could just see the young man’s appalled expression at the words. Either he was confused by his master’s forgiveness or dismayed by his attempt to shame him further by making fun of his defeat.

  Xu Liang was neither forgiving nor making fun of his impetuous underling. He said, “I have no intentions of executing you for overreaching yourself in an attempt to perform your duty, however thoughtless and rushed the attempt may have been. Even if it would be in my best interest to return one so careless to the Empress, we know that at least one of those bandits left here alive. There may be others. I would exact your execution myself before I would see you ambushed and killed by men without honor. And as I’ve already stated that such is not my intent, you will proceed on this journey with the rest of us.

  Now rise, Guang Ci, and assist the others in building a pyre for the bodies. We will not leave their corpses to defile such beautiful land as this.”

  THE WORLD CAME back slowly. Xiadao Lu sat up against the tree that ended his unexpected flight and shook his head. His ears were ringing and his back ached through to his chest. Even his teeth hurt, but nothing appeared to be broken. He moved his limbs experimentally and thanked the enchantment on his armor. Then he looked at the rift he was sitting in, that had followed him on his swift and forced dash across open land. Were it not for the solitary tree fortuitously in his path he might still have been going.

  He rubbed his undamaged but aching wrist that he had twisted when his pole-axe caught on the earth and was ripped from his grasp, and a satisfied grin split across his jaw. “You’re more powerful than I’ve heard, Xu Liang.”

  Xiadao Lu suddenly laughed and stood, jogging along the rut until he came to his weapon, still intact; they’d both survived the mystic’s assault.

  He seized the weapon and tore it free from the earth, then glared through the blanketing darkness of nightfall toward the village. “We’ll meet again!”

  On that vow, Xiadao Lu turned and fled the area.

  THE MOON SHONE silver over the night-blackened Tunghui. Xu Liang stood at the railing of the Swimming Dragon, looking back toward land and the village that glowed with calm lamplight in the near distance. It appeared that there would be no immediate retaliation for the bandits’ defeat. Their main forces must not have been camped nearby, or perhaps what Xu Liang had seen amounted to all of them. All of them save for the individual who was funding them, who knew Xu Liang would arrive at that village when he did, because the village itself was not the target.

  Several at the Imperial City had known of Xu Liang’s departure, but few had been made aware of his destination. Regardless, it seemed that someone did not want him to proceed. Whoever they were, they had failed in this attempt to stop him, but he would have to be more prepared for the next.

  TI LAO WAS a merchant community and also a fishing industry on a much grander scale than the village further up the Tunghui River. The city itself was walled, containing at least ten thousand households along with the magistrate and his family while outside, a flourishing settlement had cropped up. These were the peasants, peasants who were also fishermen and artisans. They wore hemp-linen instead of silk and their sons learned the skills of their fathers and grandfathers, rather than studying for military or civil service.

  Xu Liang had never known such a life, but he had grown to admire it. A child prodigy, he had passed his first test for a raw officer status at the age of fourteen. By sixteen, he was excelling in the ranks and by seventeen, he had Emperor Song Bao’s attention. Through rigorous and constant study, Xu Liang—now thirty-two—had secured his path in life, though he knew well that it was the wealth and status of his family that had opened that path up for him to begin with.

  Born to Lord Xu Hong of Du in the nearby city of He Jung, Xu Liang was the second son behind one already a man, and thus became the center of much attention from the start. However, such attention came with less admiration and more suspicion as people quickly began to wonder how the Xu family—known for its men of large physical stature, who were roughly handsome and possessed of fiery tempers—had acquired one such as Xu Liang. At first considered a sickly child, he rapidly bloomed into what some had labeled a creature of astonishing beauty and mesmerizing grace. Of course Xu Hong’s wife was a most charming and attractive woman, but in all of Sheng Fan only one family was famed for its abundant fairness of form and manner.

  The Xiang family, who ruled the northern kingdom of Ying, had long been referred to as the Peacock of the Empire. As well Xu Hong’s wife had in the past been suspected of carrying on with none other than the head of the Xiang household, Lord Xiang Wu. In Xu Liang it seemed confirmed. In spite of that, it was not mentioned out
side of the family that the highest household under the banner of the Green Dragon had a Peacock in its midst, masquerading as one of its own. Xu Hong may have been a gruff, temperamental man, but he was no fool and he saw the efflorescing child’s potential. In Xu Liang, the Lord of Du saw an opportunity not only to acquire greater fame throughout the Empire, but to enact an uncharacteristically subtle revenge against his rival.

  Rather than accuse his wife publicly and expose her illegitimate child, which would have required him to deliver some form of punishment before ‘grudgingly’ adopting her son, Xu Hong kept the matter a family secret. He decided that he would not sponsor an adopted son along the path to imperial office, but his own natural child. As Xu Liang continued to blossom mentally as well as physically, Xu Hong’s scheme quickly saw success. Not only was his eldest son a strong and capable heir to his kingdom under the Empress, but his second son was among the highest ranked in the Empire, above even the governor of Ying, who had thought to shame him in secret by luring his wife to dishonorable acts. While unquestionably it was Xu Hong’s foresight in this matter that spared his wife execution, it may have had something to do with his mercy in light of her crimes that he later procured two more sons by her, both strong and burning with his warrior’s blood. It did not take them long to excel in the Empire’s military ranks. And, unfortunately, there was no prouder man in all of Sheng Fan than Xu Hong, the most difficult to reason with of all the Kingdoms’ governors.

  In spite of this, Xu Liang felt remiss for not stopping to pay his respects to his parents—either in Du or Ying. He had sent a message to Xu Hong, letting him know that he would be passing through his territory—not as a requirement but as a courtesy. Even though Xu Hong had been disdainful, insensitive, and even vicious innumerable times throughout Xu Liang’s childhood, concerning whose blood was to blame for any weaknesses he might have displayed, the Officer of the Imperial Court would not repay the wrongs committed against the son. If there had been time to go to He Jung himself, he would have. While he didn’t often look forward to lengthy visits with Lord Xu or his half-brothers, Xu Liang enjoyed spending time with his mother. As well he longed to spend meaningful time with the man who had sired him.