"You will, by Lady Silwa's grace," Michael said. He did not say - for fear of dampening his Highness's spirits - but he feared that Jason would find the reunion less pleasant than he hoped. Michael's own father had abandoned his children and his wife, and Michael was certain that he had no good reason for doing so; no reason at all beyond sheer vice. A man takes care of his family, but mothers took care of their children, at least while they were too young to take care of themselves. If Jason did discover his mother, he might find nothing more than a selfish wanton who had sought to escape a child she did not want, with none of the love and affection His Highness sought. Michael prayed it was not so.
"So I hope," Jason said. "But in the meantime, I suppose I'm just going to have to bear it, aren't I?"
"You will, Your Highness," Michael said. "Heroes always bear it. You never hear of any complaints in the tales do you?"
Jason smiled wanly. "And what makes you so sure we are heroes?"
"We can hardly be the villains can we, Your Highness? Look at who we are ranged against."
Jason chuckled. "As I said, I envy you sometimes."
Michael tried to move, but his tottering legs had locked up completely by now and he fell flat on his face in the middle of the street.
"Are you all right?" Tullia asked as she tried to pull him up.
"I will be, I hope," Michael said as she pulled him into a sitting position. He felt very lightheaded, as if he wasn't where he thought he was. An immense wave of fatigue washed over him, signalling once and for all that the spirit magic experience was over.
"Good night," Michael murmured as darkness took him.
When Michael awoke the next morning he found his arms were a little stiff but offered him no real resistance as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes. Next he stood up, and his legs obeyed him even as they grumbled at it.
He stumbled out of the alley, blinking as the sunlight overwhelmed his eyes, and when they had gotten used to it he saw Amy standing in the middle of a crowd of citizens, accepting their expressions of heartfelt gratitude and pronouncing blessings upon them. As Michael walked towards her Amy waved to him, and extracted herself from her admirers and well wishers.
"You're up and about quick, Gideon said it might take you a couple of days."
"Gideon doubtless exerted himself harder than an idler such as I," Michael said. "And he used real spirit magic, I made content with a substitute."
"What happened to calling him Lord Gideon?"
"He invited me to use his name from now on," Michael said with a smile. "Where's everyone else?"
"Talking to the Legate of the Thirty Fifth," Amy said. "Follow me, I'll take you to them." Michael followed as she led the way.
Gideon was, indeed, talking with the legate of the Thirty Fifth, while Jason, Tullia and Wyrrin kept watch. As Michael and Amy got closer they could hear what was being said.
"I expect the army will have to take over running this province, until a new proconsul can be despatched by the Emperor, and I mean to send for reinforcements from the brigade to hold it down," the legate said. He was a powerfully built man who looked a little put out at having to look up to the taller Gideon. "Mind you, I'm not expecting much more trouble from the Rose. They bet the mansion and the townhouse on this attack but their chariot's wrecked and they've nothing left. I expect they'll go quiet again, though it will be hard work rooting them out after they've gone to ground."
"I'm sure if any unit is equal to the task it's the Thirty Fifth," Gideon said. "After all, you did damn well at Cendra Valley."
"And don't you forget it, Seventh," the legate barked. "Are you determined to leave, Captain Laevinus? We could use a man of skill and courage."
It took Michael a moment to realise that Gideon must have given his name as Captain Laevinus to avoid trouble with the false accusations Quirian had made against Gideon Commenae.
"I've no doubt you could, sir," Gideon said. "But the Empire needs me more."
The legate raised an eyebrow. "The Empire eh? You speak in riddles captain, but if you mean to go then I won't stop you. You did damn well last night, all of you. The city of Davidheyr owes you a great debt, and on behalf of His Imperial Majesty's Thirty Fifth Legion I salute your valour."
"May the Empress' mercy protect you, Legate," Gideon said.
The legate nodded. "And you captain."
Gideon signalled for the others to follow him, and they made their way to the bridge over the Zimous. With the end of the rebel threat, the Deucalian guards upon the far end of the bridge had begun to let refugees cross over into the neighbouring province. They let Gideon and his followers across, adding their own praise for the efforts of the company in the battle for Davidheyr. They crossed over the water, and paused for a moment on a small hill by the side of the Great East Road, looking out across the rolling downs of Deucalia.
"So this is it," Michael said. "I've finally left home."
"You left home when you left Lover's Rock," Jason said.
"Your Highness knows my meaning full well," Michael said. "This is a brand new country."
"This is all the Divine Empire Michael," Gideon said. "And in time you will come to value every part of it as equally precious."
"It is, however, a part of the Empire not mired in strife and rebellion, and so we ought to have an easier time of it from here on out," Jason said.
"I would not say that, Your Highness," Michael said. "In stories the obstacles always increase in danger and difficulty the closer the hero gets to his goal, and the villain's presence becomes more overt."
"I'm sure, but this isn't a story is it?" Jason said.
"Not yet, but it may become one Your Highness," Tullia said. "After all, one would presume all stories began as real events that befell real people."
"I hope so, that's what I'm here for," Amy said. "Bring them all on: Quirian, his followers, whatever he's got. We've beat the Crimson Rose and we'll beat anything else he cares to throw our way. For Turo and the line of Niccolo!"
"And for great glory and the immortality of our names!" Wyrrin cried.
"Don't get overconfident," Gideon said quietly. "Michael is right, the battles are only going to get harder now, particularly as we get closer to Aureliana. We are likely to be contending directly with Quirian himself from here on."
"Come now, my lord; I mean, Gideon," Michael said. "Look at us: a heroic soldier, a sorcerer, an elite bodyguard, a naiad knight and a pair of gladiators; have we not the best of Empire and the Ocean and the elder races here assembled? We are determined, and virtuous and we are comrades bound in fellowship," he put his arms around the shoulders of Amy and Jason. "I truly believe that there is nothing beyond our skill when our wills are as one. We saved Davidheyr together, and together we shall defeat Quirian and any other rogue or varlet who comes along as well. Because we are a band of bold companions, and no power in Pelarius may stand against us."
"Damn right we are," Amy said.
"I agree," Tullia said. "There is no foe who has not cause to fear our fury."
"You are all complete idiots," Jason said, before a smile broke out on his face. "But idiots I'd love to believe."
Gideon chuckled. "Very well then. Forward march, for Goddess, Throne and Empire. For honour and glory and tuppence a day, awoooooo!"
Michael gave the wolf howl a try himself. "Awooooo, awoooooo!"
Amy was the next to make the attempt, then Tullia with the best after Gideon's own, and finally all six of them pitched in as the wolf cry of their little company echoed across Deucalia province, a warning to Quirian and his armies that retribution was coming for him.
IX
Magic Lessons
Miranda stood in the courtyard of Quirian's estate, in the centre of a circle formed by her magic tutors.
Octavia stood directly in front of her, her two-handed sword slung awkwardly over her hunched back, an encouraging smile lighting up her face as she brushed a few strands of golden hair out of her eyes.
Ae
lia stood to Octavia's right, a small pile of stones piled up at her feet. Her cornflower hair was tied back in a long ponytail hanging down her neck and back.
To Aelia's right stood Danaus, a slender young man with unkempt stubble on his chin and red-brown hair combed to fall down one side of his face. He was Miranda's wood-magic tutor, and at his feet there was the slightly incongruous sight of a small shrub, since wood - like earth - required something to do magic on.
To his right, and half behind Miranda on her own right stood Lydia, the tutor of lightning magic. who wore a leather cuirass, bracers, pteruges and not a lot else, including nothing at all on her feet. Her dark hair was not particularly long, but she had pinned it up behind her anyway.
And to the right of her was Miranda's fire magic teacher, Cebriones. He looked half asleep, his green eyes nearly hidden behind his mostly-shut eyelids, and he was wearing even less than Lydia: a loin-cloth to cover his modesty was the sole concession he had made to decency.
Out of the circle, a dozen paces out of the way, stood Captain Lucifer, his gloved arm pointing stiffly down his side even as his other hand gripped his elbow tightly. He had his mask on, but Miranda knew that he was watching her. Once she was done with the elemental magic, it would be his turn to teach her sorcery.
"Are you ready?" Octavia asked.
Miranda nodded, leaning on her stick. "I am. Let's get started."
"It'll be fine, honestly," Octavia said. "Just do your best."
Miranda smiled. "I shall certainly try."
"Okay," Octavia said. "The first thing to learn about elemental magic is that it isn't all the same: there's a big difference between air, lightning and fire on the one hand and earth and wood on the other."
"The difference being that earth and wood are useless," Cebriones said.
"Why don't you try saying that after I throw one of these rocks at your head?" Aelia snapped.
Cebriones laughed as he snapped his fingers, making a flame appear on the tip of his index finger. "Of the two of us, one of us doesn't need a rock to throw. And one of us is fire-proof."
"And if you could use your ego to fuel your magic you'd be more powerful than Filia Miranda," Lydia murmured.
"That's right," Cebriones said, nodding. "Wait, what?"
"That's enough," Lucifer thundered. "Remember, you are here to train Filia Miranda, not to posture."
Cebriones chuckled nervously. "Sorry, Captain."
"As I was saying," Octavia said, her tone giving no sign that she was unsettled by the interruption. "Air, fire and lightning don't require any external objects to manipulate."
"Doesn't air magic require me to manipulate air?" Miranda asked.
Octavia hesitated. "Well, maybe, but there aren't any places where there's no air the way that there might not be no earth or no wood. I suppose air is a bit on its own, but it's more like fire and lightning because you can always use it."
"Except that it's more like wood and earth in that it is manipulating something that's already there, not creating something like Cebriones just created the fire," Miranda said.
Octavia looked up. "I suppose you have a point there." She smiled. "Well done, Miranda. You're a natural at this! You're already noticing things that I didn't!"
"That isn't too hard," Lydia muttered.
Either Octavia hadn't heard or pretended that she hadn't. "Now, air magic is the best kind so we'll start with that one."
Everyone muttered something at that, but still Octavia pretended she couldn't hear.
"All of us here are going to take turns teaching you our different kinds of magic. We have to do that because except for you no one is born with more than one magical element, and the only way to acquire another magical element is to eat the heart of another mage of a different element. So if I ate Aelia's heart, then I'd have earth magic as well."
"Hey!" yelled Aelia. "I'm standing right here!"
"Yes, but you'd also be a very disgusting person if you did that so I'm glad you didn't," Miranda said.
Octavia said, "Now, for humans, the most important thing to learn about air magic is how to be solid: an air mage can make winds blow like a hurricane, but only if she's standing in the eye of the storm first. Watch." Octavia twirled on her toes like a dancer. Her golden hair bounced as she spun a second time, working her arms furiously. Miranda felt the wind beginning to blow upon her cheek. First it was a gentle breeze, then as Octavia came to a halt it became a blustery gale. Miranda gripped her stick tight as it started to get away from her, brushed her white hair out of her eyes as the wind continued to get more and more intense. Miranda hunched her back to catch less of the wind as she started to slide backwards across the courtyard. The gale bit through Miranda's simple dress and began to freeze her limbs with cold.
Octavia though, stood perfectly still in the centre of all this. Even her hair was absolutely still. She smiled. "You see! The calm at the centre of the storm!" The wind died down. "If you can't be still like that then you won't ever be able to master wind magic, and you might even hurt yourself because the magic will move you, not the other way around. When I first started learning magic I blew myself off a mountainside by accident. Now you give it a try."
"Right." Miranda said softly, leaning even harder upon her ebony cane. Carefully she raised one palm, she no idea if the gestures were necessary but it might help.
"Remember, stillness," Octavia said. "Now try to feel the flow of the air around you."
"Feel it with what?"
Octavia shrugged. "All of you I suppose."
Miranda rolled her eyes. And then closed them. She concentrated, beginning with the breeze raising goosebumps on her skin. Miranda frowned as she tried to push her awareness outwards, to track the wind backwards to its source.
She pushed on it, and slid backwards.
"That's why you need to find stillness," Octavia said. "Try sitting down, it's easier to root yourself that way at first."
Miranda looked at her out of the side of her eyes. "Is this a physical rooting, or a metaphorical? This isn't something to do with being at peace with myself is it?"
"Nope, it's just knowing literally where you stand," Octavia said. "The metaphors come in when you start learning sorcery. Now, try it again."
Miranda sighed. She closed her eyes, and tried to imagine herself as a fixed point, absolutely still, the calm in the centre of the world.
She remembered a time when she was eight years old, before Michael had become a slave, before Felix had died, before even their mother had died. Miranda was sitting on the beach outside their house, letting the waves wash in and out, the water soothing the pain in her leg as it caressed her. She lay back, her white hair splayed out all around her, feeling the sand digging into her back, looking up at the cloudless sky above.
Behind her, she could hear Michael and Felix fighting.
"Amy wouldn't ever marry you!" Michael said. "You're too weak, our Amy will want to marry a real, strong man like me!"
"One day I'll be just as strong as you are," Felix retorted. "But you'll always be short. Our Amy won't ever marry someone smaller than her. And I don't have a ugly face like yours, or a mean temper like you do."
Miranda sighed as they kept going. Felix was going to win. He always did, mostly because Michael let him. Sometimes it would irritate her, the way that they went on - they were even worse when Amy was actually around - but today, as she listened to them yell and crash around on the beach, it made her smile. It was reassuring, in a way. Everything was as it should be in the world.
"What are you two boys fighting about this time?" Mother said wearily as she joined them outside. "Michael, are you being childish again?"
"Maybe a little," Michael confessed. "Sorry, mother."
Miranda heard her mother's footsteps coming towards her, before her face blocked out the sky as she loomed over Miranda. "Miranda? Are you all right?"
Miranda smiled. "I'm fine, mother. Everything's fine. Everything's wonderful."
; Miranda smiled at the memory. "Everything was wonderful. Why couldn't it have stayed like that for longer?"
"Miranda?" Octavia asked.
Miranda opened her eyes, her smile widening a little. "I think it is a metaphor, a little bit." And she held onto that feeling, of peace, of contentedness, and captured it as she exerted her will upon the air around her.
Octavia squeaked as she was blown backwards six feet, pinwheeling through the air before landing on her front.
"Oh God, are you all right?" Miranda asked. "I didn't realise that would happen."
Octavia raised her head, beaming. "I knew you could do it! Well done, Miranda."
"That was fast," Danaus said. "I've never seen anyone pick it up that quickly."
"Must be the Aurelian power," Aelia said.
"No, it isn't," Octavia said, leaping to her feet. "It's that Miranda is just that good, isn't it?"
"Um, I'm not quite sure," Miranda said.
One by one, Quirian's mages took their turns instructing her in their various arts: earth, wood, lightning, fire. Each required a different mindset, each required a different approach, but one by one Miranda got to grips with all of them. By the end of the lesson air remained her strongest aspect, with wood and earth as her weakest - she found it much easier to just make fire or lightning spark than to get something that was already there to obey her - although she was far from an expert at either of them. Still, it had only been her first lesson, there would be plenty of time to improve.
As her tutors in elemental magic refreshed themselves after their exertions - and Miranda wished that she could join them - Lucifer stalked over to her.
"Are you ready to begin learning about sorcery now, Filia?" he asked.
Miranda sighed heavily. "Yes, yes I suppose I am."
"I'm sorry for tiring you," Lucifer said. "But Lord Father is very keen for you to learn as much as possible as quickly as possible. I'm also sorry that this might not be as effortless for you as it is for most sorcerers."
Miranda's eyebrow rose. "What do you mean?"
Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) Page 32