Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1)

by Frances Smith

  "A view not entirely without merit," Gideon said. "Aeneas, Aegea's son and the first Prince Imperial, was himself of bastard birth; yet as the son of their beloved Aegea the legions bore him on their shoulders to the throne and those who tried to prevent his accession were cast into rootless exile. Doubtless some scholar has reminded Prince Antiochus of the venerable precedent."

  Jason snorted in disbelief, spreading his arms out to encompass the surround. "Do you see an army ranged to sweep me into power? Shall I stamp my foot to raise the provinces in arms to enforce my claim? I was raised by slaves and servants, prostitutes, crossdressers and priests of small faiths. What power have I, to defy an Emperor lawfully enthroned and acclaimed upon that seat by soldiers, patricians and equestrians alike? To stand against the council and the comitia, the patricians and the proconsuls, against Lord Manzikes and all his host? Will you four make me Emperor?"

  "We might attempt it, Your Highness, but I fear you have given little evidence you would govern the Empire well," Michael said.

  Jason rolled his eyes. "I was not actually asking a real...oh never mind. Heavens preserve us. At any rate, putting such delusions to one side, that is how I came to be on the road with only Tullia for company. One night Silwa came to me in a dream and asked me to come here. She told me of the urgency of the situation, and I agreed."

  "Why," Amy said. "Doesn't seem like you've much reason to love this country."

  "This country?" Jason smiled wanly. "Indeed, I would not raise a hand to save this rotting travesty of a nation from it's well deserved end."

  "Then why are you here?" Gideon asked.

  Jason's smile acquired a little more life. "For prostitutes, crossdressers, and priests of small religions. For all those who will suffer undeservedly if Quirian's plans come to fruition. That is the only reason I would come here, for there is no other good reason to take up arms."

  "Is that so?" Gideon said. "I will not deny that protecting others is a motive not ignoble, but the only motive?"

  "All the others are but the vainglories which bloodthirsty killers use to justify their actions, the shields by which savages can glory in their savagery," Jason flashed a grim smile in Gideon's direction. "Do you not find it so, Butcher of Oretar?"

  "Your Highness," Michael murmured. "That is the second time you have insulted Lord Gideon so, as his servant I must insist that there is no third occasion."

  Tullia's eyes hardened. "Some might see a veiled threat there, and take offence."

  "Would it offend you less if the threat were more explicit, Filia?"

  "It is all right, Michael," Gideon said.

  "But my lord-"

  "I have been called that name many times, by better men than Jason Nemon Filius," Gideon said. "I had it flung in my face often by my brother's friends; I endured it then and I shall endure it now."

  "Yes, because you are the one labouring beneath misfortune with that name, not all of those you slaughtered to acquire the name," Jason said. "Surely you do not deny you thoroughly earned it?"

  "I did my duty, to Throne and Empire," Gideon said. "I served the Empire as faithfully as I could, which has been and will always been my only aim. The war was won, the Empire was preserved, that is all that matters."

  "So the morality of the actions taken in it, they are irrelevant?" Jason asked.

  "What do you wish me to say?" Gideon said. "That they are relevant, that you may condemn me for contravening them, or that they are not that you may castigate my opinions? I will not deny it was the wrong war: the publicani, those fat innkeepers who thought that a heavy purse entitled them to an equal share in the governance of the realm alongside names reaching back eight centuries, had no right to pervert Aegea's dream into a means of lining their pockets. They had no right to treat the army, the embodiment of the Empire's might and valour, like some hireling pack of mercenary dogs. That is why, when the war was over, I went back to Eternal Pantheia and I dragged those snivelling publicans out into Eternal Square and I cut off their heads for treason. That is why no one raised voice or hand against me when I did so; that is why for the only time in my life the soldiers cheered me on as I avenged the insult to their tarnished honour. But in between times the war had been started and it had to be won, for the sake of our prestige and our standing in the world. And so I did what had to be done to ensure that victory.

  "I burned villages, I left the inhabitants to starve and freeze and I did it not because I was ordered to but because my duty demanded nothing less. Duty, to the Empire and the Divine Empress herself."

  "So for duty's sake, for the Empire, you would break all bonds of morality and civil conduct?" Jason said.

  "I would glut the world with blood until it screamed for mercy if it would buy the Empire but one more day of life," Gideon said. "And I would go to my death with a glad smile and a high heart if by dying I could preserve the Empire from her enemies. She is my love, my heart, my soul, and I am nothing but the sum of service I may render to her. There is no law I would not break, no decency I would not violate, no god whose commands I would not defy if the Empire bid me do it."

  Jason shook his head. "You are the worse kind of fanatic; the kind who believes he is the only man in all the world to find the sacred Truth, and all the rest are liars, fools or madmen."

  "Oh, I do not believe I am the only one," Gideon said, casting an aside glance towards Michael.

  "I hope you will forgive me for saying I do not think I can ever fully trust a man such as you," Jason said.

  "I do not ask for trust, only obedience," Gideon said. "We can have only one captain here."

  "You have it, guardedly," Jason said. "Very guardedly."

  As the two stared at one another in silence, Michael smiled at Tullia. "Had a struggle ensued, ma'am, I would have won it handily."

  "Not a chance," said Tullia.

  "Tullia, I thought you were more mature than this," Jason said with a sigh.

  "Even an mage is allowed her pride, highness," Tullia said.

  "Well, unless anyone else wishes to have a philosophical discussion, I suggest we try and sleep off what remains of the night," Gideon rose in a single graceful motion. "I will stand watch, in case the Crimson Rose come calling."

  "I will help you, my lord," Michael said.

  Gideon shook his head. "I need you rested, Michael; you should get some sleep."

  "I will sleep when the enemy is defeated, my lord."

  "If you need a second pair of eyes, then mine will serve," Tullia said.

  "Filia-" Michael began.

  "You saved my life, and the life of his highness what is more," Tullia said. "This is the least I can do to repay the debt."

  "There is no debt," Michael said.

  "Then call it a favour from a friend," Tullia said, half smiling. "Sleep. Your strength may be needed in the morning."

  She got up to stand by Gideon, watching over Michael as he lay down with a cloak his blanket. The stone was not so comfortable as the straw he had slept on in beneath the arena, but he was so very tired, and he felt so safe with Gideon and Filia Tullia watching over him. No sooner had he closed his eyes then sleep took him.

  Silwa strode out of the mist fully clad for battle, a smile playing across her face. "So, what do you think of the assistance I laid on for you?"

  Michael was not quite sure what possessed him to treat such a grand lady so, but faced with his benefactor he could not help it: he strode across the twilight meeting place and enfolded Silwa in a tight hug, pressing her chin against his shoulder. "You brought her back. You sent for her and brought our Amy back to me. I never imagined... did not dream." Abruptly he remembered that this was a goddess and a companion of Gabriel to whom he was speaking, and released her and dropped to one knee. "My lady, I shall be ever in your debt for this great kindness."

  "You may want to think twice before making such a rash declaration," Silwa said.

  "It is better to be rash than discourteous," Michael said, his head bowed so as no
t to trouble her with his gaze. "What you have done is beyond my power to repay, and my little service is the least that I may offer even as it is all I have to give."

  "Spoken like a true man of Corona if ever I knew one," Silwa said, making Michael feel rather pleased with himself. "This means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

  "The summer days were never so bright as when our Amy stood rival to the sun," Michael said. "To think that she left behind the world of the naiads for my sake; it is... humbling. I feel very small to think on it."

  "And so you should," Silwa took Michael by the shoulders and raised him once more to his feet, lifting his chin to force him to meet her gaze. "There, that's better. But I do not think Amy came simply for your sake. Ask her yourself, if you will, and she may tell you if she likes. But I have sent you more aid than Amy alone, have I not?"

  "Indeed, and if possible even more unexpected," Michael said. "His Highness has had a very sad life. No child should grow up without a mother's love. Even I, whose youth was poor in so many ways, was rich in that and thus with life content. Certainly no one should be alone in the world without family."

  Silwa tilted her head to one side. "Now he has you."

  "My lady?"

  Silwa smiled enigmatically. "Michael, I do not merely seek to rescue the Empire from Quirian's grief, nor even to save the life of Miranda Callistus, noble enough though those aims are. No, I aim at further targets yet: by the time all this is over I hope to have saved a few souls as well."

  "I am sorry my lady, I do not understand."

  "If you did, Michael, then all this hard work would be unnecessary," Silwa said, and then was gone as suddenly as she had come on.

  VIII

  Spirit Magic

  Michael awoke to find Davidheyr bathed in the rosy-fingered rays of the sun. He sat up, shielding his eyes with one hand while he waited for them to become accustomed. Michael saw, with some dismay, that everyone else was up before him. Gideon was watching Michael, his expression inscrutable. Amy was sitting with her legs crossed and a bucket of water in front of her, staring into its depths as if the mysteries of life might be divined within. Tullia knelt, a collection of knives laid out before her, picking them up and examining them one at a time, putting some to one side and some to the other. Jason sat beside her, examining his shepherd's crook.

  Jason glanced over at Michael as he stood up, "Good morning."

  "Good morrow, your highness," Michael said. He sat up. "If I may trouble Your Highness with a question: what is the purpose of that staff you bear?"

  "He is a sorcerer," Gideon said. "They use conduits to channel their power and, indeed, to record the spells of which they are capable: you have three such conduits, you must be quite a versatile sorcerer."

  Jason was silent, and Michael could understand his quiet. Sorcery was proscribed by the will of the Novar Church, and punishable by death to boot. Even the Imperial authorities were supposed to hand sorcerers real or suspected over to the Church for trial and punishment. In Corona, where the Novarians held no power and honest Turonim were more likely to spit on a representative of that church than to give him a drink of water, the law was not enforced yet even here the occasional brave but foolhardy witch hunter would try his luck. And Michael doubted that his Highness, raised in Eternal Pantheia and imperfectly educated, would know of the peculiarities of one small and far off province. Perhaps he thought they meant to hand him over there and then.

  Jason regarded them all warily, out of the side of his eye like a skittish horse liable to bolt. "It is as you say. I follow the Eldar, the true gods of Pelarius before they were usurped. And I have learned a little of their ancient powers, though I am but an amateur to the craft."

  "So, when you said that you were accused of sorcery," Gideon said. "The accusations were not entirely false."

  "That does not make it any less of an excuse," Jason said. "To conceal Antiochus' more personal reasons."

  "Yet, all the same, a very convenient weapon to give him," Gideon murmured. "Some might call your choice of religion unwise."

  "A man must hold firm to his convictions," Jason said. "These were the only gods who seemed to welcome me, just as it was a priest of that faith who was one of the first to welcome me into his life. The Novar church is too established, too respectable, to welcome bastards, beggars or forsaken outcasts of any kind. But the Eldar will accept the prayers of any, be he ever so humble or forsaken."

  Gods who have spent more than two thousand years slumbering in Turo's care do not have many opportunities to pick and choose, Michael thought. In the early days of the age of men, so the tales told, all men had worshipped the Novar, the younger gods who had given them life. Even after they had betrayed men to the tender mercy of the elves, still the Novar had the love of most men. And when the Novar had raised rebellion against their parents the Eldar, the old gods, then men had followed them into battle against the trolls and the fire drakes. All the elder gods save Turo had been defeated in that war, their lives saved only by Turo's intervention, and he had brought his brothers and sisters down to his ocean realm where he held sway and his nieces and nephews could not follow. There they remained, not dead but not truly living either. Since then a few men had come to the worships of Turo's siblings, but not without bitter opposition from the Novar Church.

  "You should have simply prayed to Turo, highness, he is at least alive and well," Michael said. And there is power yet in Turo's temple to withstand the Novarians and protect the faithful also.

  "I am not averse to him, in his proper place amongst his brothers and sisters," Jason said. "But it is wrong of you Coronim to set him so high above the others, and one day there will be a reckoning for it."

  Jason looked first to Gideon, then to Michael, and last of all to Amy. "I know that what I know and what I am is against the law. I know what the Novarian priests say. I know that you will probably wish me gone now."

  "On the contrary," Gideon said. "You have finally provided me a reason you should be allowed to stay. I am not a man on whom religion's outward forms lie heavily: I believe in the Divine Empress with all my soul and she will ever have a claim upon my heart; but duty done is my means of worship, the battlefield is my temple, and victories are my votive offerings to her. And so I will not turn aside a blade that may help in the defence of the Divine Empress or this glorious nation of hers for such a petty reason as the say-so of a faith not my own. I must confess I had wondered what possible use could be found in this battle for such as you, but it appears that you may be able to give good account of yourself with your rare abilities."

  "You want me to fight," Jason said. "To use the skills the gods have taught me to take life?"

  "You said last night you wanted to protect people," Gideon said. "Surely you didn't think you were going to do that without getting your hands a little dirty in the process?"

  Jason turned his purple gaze upon Michael and Amy. "And what of the two of you?"

  "I'm half naiad, half Coronim and all Turonim," Amy said. "Ser Viola kept a sorcerer at her castle, and my grandfather had four. I never heard anything down there to suggest that the Eldest One is going to come back because a few spells are cast. I could even be a bit of a sorcerer myself, look at this." Amy drew her sword, and rested it upon her knees. She gestured to the runes that covered the blade. "These runes are spells, just like you've got carved on your staff except these are much older. If I could read it, I could work the magic, but I can only just about speak in Naiad let alone read it."

  Jason squinted at Magnus Alba, tilting his head sideways. "These are not the runes that I have learned. But then I have read that the elder races each developed their own variations upon the Divine Language, and there is some sense in that. And what of you, Michael, do you not care that I may be weakening the seals on the Eldest One's prison with my unnatural practices?"

  "That is what the Novar priests say, Your Highness, but I am Turonim as Amy is and they are not my priests," Michael had gone to temple eve
ry week, even as a slave - master Dolabella had had a priest come and minister to the souls of his gladiators - and had never heard anything but respect for the sorcerer's arts which derived from the Eldar amongst whom Lord Turo was counted. Nor had he any cause to love the Novar Church: a witch hunter had once tried to claim that Miranda's power was unholy, and drag her away. First an angry mob had nearly torn the man limb from limb, then the aedile had had him arrested for assault and breach of the peace. A jury of honest Turonim had found him guilty and sentenced him to the arena. Michael had had some fun that day. "I will trust in my god's words, and in the judgement of Lady Silwa who sent you to us."

  "As for myself, I serve the Emperor before any god," Tullia said. "I have my orders: to defend you with my life, and I will obey that command so long as I have strength to do so." A thin smile crossed her lips. "And if the Dark Lord should return due to your efforts then I will deal with him the same way I will deal with any foeman, priest or god who seeks to menace us."

  "Well said," Gideon said. "That is the old Imperial way and it is good to hear it still exists amongst the Corps of Mages."

  Tullia nodded. "Thank you, my lord."

  "You know," Gideon went on, pacing up and down now. "I think it is in some ways a rather fortunate turn that you are of the Old Religion. I loathe the baleful influence that the faith of the Novarians has had upon our fair state, and am glad that no true fervour for them is represented in our company. Do you know what it was that first drove on the Empire's conquests?"

  "Rampant greed, arrogance and moral myopia?" Jason suggested.

  Gideon gave him an old fashioned look for a moment before he answered, "Faith. Faith in the Divine Empress, who promised her children that she would always watch over them from the realms of the spirit. Faith in our destiny, revealed to us by Aegea and inherited by each generation which followed in her footsteps. Faith in ourselves: in our strength, in our valour, in the greatness of our being and in our potential to be greater still. With that faith we overran the Daric League, burned the cites of the proud Tarquinians, humbled the Turmeians and even toppled the Aurelian power. While that faith burned like a torch in the breast of every loyal son of Empire, there was no foe in all the world could stand before us. And then we reached Corona," Gideon turned to Michael with an ironic smile. "I'm afraid that this is all your fault Michael."