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

by Frances Smith

  "There, this is better, isn't it? I think it's terrible when famillies fight, don't you think Miranda?"

  "Unfortunately, I fought with my brother more often than not," Miranda said. "I don't regret making my views clear, but I do regret the way we left things. It was harsher than I meant."

  "When I saw him, I don't think he took it very hard," Octavia said. "He wanted to see you again."

  "There, you see?" Portia said. "When you meet again you can make up with him."

  "That would be wonderful," Miranda said. "Unfortunately, there are a lot of things that may get in the way of that."

  "Oh," Portia said. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

  "There are so many things that you don't understand, Empress, what's one more?" Antiochus said jovially. "Smile, laugh, enjoy the sunshine, and don't worry your pretty little head about things that are none of your concern."

  Miranda's eyes narrowed. That was an insult, plain and simple. She waited to see if Portia would respond, and found herself a little disappointed when she did not. This was a side to Prince Antiochus she had not seen before, and frankly she did not like it.

  Demodocus clears his throat. "I would like to say, Miranda, how pleased I am at the good work that you are doing for us. Antiochus speaks very highly of you."

  "Five hundred golems now, isn't it?" Antiochus asked.

  "Closer to six now, your highness," Miranda said.

  "And will they do?" Demodocus asked. "To replace soldiers in the field, I mean?"

  Miranda shrugged. "I am no soldier, but Lord Quirian believes so. Certainly they are strong, and hard to damage."

  "Excellent," Demodocus said, slapping the table. "Too long has the Imperial Army strutted up and down the countryside, throwing their weight around. It'll be good to kick the legs out from under them."

  "And from the Lord Commenae too, and all those other nobles who think they are so very grand," Antiochus said.

  "Pompous little arse has it coming, without a doubt," Demodocus said.

  "What of their ability to defend the Empire's borders?" Miranda asked.

  "Well, of course, I'm sure they'll do perfectly well at that as well," Demodocus said quickly. "But frankly, Miranda, I have always been more worried about the dangers posed to the Empire by the legions rather than the barbarian tribes or the Xarzian satraps."

  Princess Romana looked very much as though she wanted to scream, but dared not.

  "It will be very good," Demodocus continued. "To have an army in my hand on which I can rely."

  "You?" Antiochus said, leaning forwards. "Brother, I thought we had agreed that I was to have command of the golem army? We discussed it, and decided that you have so many burdens and responsibilities already that I would take this particular load off your shoulders?"

  "Yes, of course, of course," Demodocus said. "I know that I can rely you, brother. Would that I could say the same of all my kin. But, at the same time, I am mindful to keep some of Miranda' golems in my own hands, learning the lessons of my predecessors who left themselves without a strong military at their own command."

  "You do not trust me?" Antiochus asked, affronted.

  "I trust you absolutely," Demodocus said. "But I am wary of those who may come after you. How can I trust those that I do not know?"

  "Is that why you have not chosen a replacement for Lord Manzikes?" Miranda asked.

  "No, Miranda, that's just because I want to make the dukes sweat a little before I make my choice," Demodocus said. "Besides, it is my hope that soon such an office will become unnecessary."

  "Even at her current rate of progress it will be some time before there are enough golems to replace our army," Romana said. "If there are ever so many. And how will they be replaced once Miranda is gone."

  "A detail for others to worry about," Antiochus said.

  "As much as it galls me, Romana, you make a rare good point," Demodocus growled. "I will appoint a new commander, in due time. Once I have determined who can be relied upon."

  "Who leads the golems now?" Portia asked.

  "I do," Miranda said. "I command them, at least, I don't think leading is quite the right word. I am...I suppose you might say that I am their mother, and they obey me upon instinct. Anyone else who wants to give them orders I first have to instruct the golems to obey. I am working to change that, though. I have an idea were I will give groups of golems - cohorts of them, if you will - certain command phrases, and instruct them to obey anyone who knows the phrase. That way command could be more efficiently delegated."

  "It sounds like a splendid idea," Demodocus said.

  "So if it works I could give the phrases to either you, Prince Antiochus, or you your majesty as you decide."

  Antiochus looked very sour at that, while Romana looked a little disappointed for reasons that Miranda could not comprehend. Surely she did not expect to be offered command?

  "Why doesn't Miranda stay in charge of the golems?" Portia suggested. "I trust her already, don't you?"

  "Don't be ridiculous," Antiochus snapped.

  "Brother," Demodocus said, his tone carrying a note of warning.

  Antiochus clenched his jaw for a moment. "She is a woman, how can she command troops in battle."

  "Aegea did," Romana murmured.

  "Shut up!" Antiochus snarled. "No one cares about Aegea any more, not a single soul save you, so stop bringing her up all the time."

  "It would be unusual," Demodocus said. "But then we are experiencing novel circumstances. I will give it some thought, thank you my dear." He kissed Portia upon the head, on the cheek, and finally upon the lips for such a long time that it was starting to make Miranada feel like a voyeur before they released one another. Demodocus returned his attention to Miranda. "Miranda, I know that you are already being well paid for your service, but I would like to give you some other reward as a token of my gratitude. And so I have prepared this." He produced a sealed scroll from out of the folds of his cloak. "A grant of a public horse, prepared by my freedmen and signed and sealed by myself, elevating you and your heirs to equestrian rank in perpetuity."

  Miranda's eyes widened. In the Empire, one's social standing - as determined by the citizenship rankings, from patrician at the top down to poll tax payer at the bottom, was determined by wealth and property ownership. But to be granted a public horse, as the Emperor was now offering, was to be freed from the constraints of that system. Though she were to be reduced to absolute penury, she would never descend down the social ladder from her lofty perch, and nor would any who followed her. Such grants, even the lesser grants of public arms in whatever rank, were rare; Miranda had never met anyone who possessed one. Without a doubt Demodocus was offering her a gift both rare and valuable.

  Romana snorted.

  "You have something to say, sister, then say it," Demodocus snapped.

  "She is too young," Romana said. "She is too young and her service to the state does not warrant it."

  "I am the Emperor, I may do as I please," Demodocus said.

  "Within the constraints of law and precedent, of which there is none for honouring someone thus for so little."

  "It doesn't matter," Miranda said quickly. "Your majesty, Demodocus, this is a very kind offer, kinder than I can express, but I cannot accept."

  Demodocus looked puzzled. "Why ever not?"

  "Because, although this grant would give me many rights I do not, at present, possess," Miranda explained. "It would also take a few away. Most importantly my right to marry another woman." Citizens of equestrian rank or below could marry a person of the same sex as themselves, but patricians and those who had been granted either a public horse or public arms could not, for it was considered a matter of the public good that their names and bloodlines should continue on and continue to serve the Empire.

  "I do not say that I will marry," Miranda said. "But I would like to have the choice."

  Demodocus chuckled. "Of course, Miranda, I quite understand. Is there anything else that you wou
ld like instead? Land perhaps, there is quite a bit of it in my gift as Emperor."

  "I will give it some thought, if you will permit," Miranda said.

  "How could I refuse?" Demodocus asked. "Sadly, I fear that Antiochus and I must leave you now. Another tedious meeting of the privy council beckons. By the time it finishes I daresay you shall be gone."

  Miranda stood up. "It was an honour to meet you, your majesty."

  "The honour was all mine Miranda," Demodocus replied. "After all, you possess a power of rare value. All I can do is wear purple robes."

  Princess Romana rolled her eyes.

  Demodocus kissed Portia goodbye, and then made his way into the palace. Prince Antiochus made to follow, but lingered a moment, staring at Miranda.

  "Filia, a moment if you please," he murmured.

  Miranda stepped away from the table, and Antiochus grabbed her wrist so hard that Miranda winced in pain.

  "You are mine," he growled in a hushed whisper. "I brought you here, I pay you, I make you everything you are. Mine! Not Portia's, not Romana's, not Demodocus's. You are mine, you serve me, I own you. Do not forget that."

  Miranda glared at him. "I am not your slave, nor bound to any man. No one owns me, your highness. Do not forget that."

  She wrenched her hand free and turned away from him, returning to her seat as he departed inside the palace. He had never seemed so much of a complete prick as he did in that moment: so cruel, so contemptuous of Portia, so grasping and greedy. She was beginning to consider if the more affable and courteous Demodocus might be a better master of the golems than the prince. After all, she had only had Quirian's word to go on that the Emperor was unfit for his throne, but she had found Demodocus to be charmingly self-deprecating.

  And she liked Portia. She did not wish any harm to come to her. That, she felt, would not be best ensured by placing the power of the golems in the hands of her brother in law.

  "He is a wonderful man, isn't he?" Portia asked. "Every time at see him I wonder anew at my good fortune. But then, that's what love is, isn't it?"

  "As long as you are happy, nothing else matters," Miranda replied.

  "A fine sentiment for private life," Romana murmured. "But for those on whom the public gaze sits without end I fear it is quite impractical, maybe even dangerous."

  "Danger?" Portia laughed. "Romana, the way you talk sometimes...I'm the Empress, what could possibly put me in danger?"

  Miranda heard a tapping sound, like something metal scraping upon stone. She looked up, eyes searching, and saw a grappling hook resting on top of the garden wall.

  Princess Romana rose to her feet. "What in the Empress' name?"

  A man hauled himself over the wall and dropped into the garden about a dozen feet from where the four ladies sat. He was a burly fellow, tall and muscular, dressed in dark grey and with his face hidden behind a hood. He wore a short sword at his hip and a brace of daggers around his waist. He drew one of those knives as he stalked towards them, saying nothing, making so little noise as to be almost silent. He was like a living shadow as he advanced, stepping in front of a weeping willow tree as he held his knife - the blade had been blackened - casually at his side.

  Octavia's wings flared out on either side of her as she surged to her feet with an angry shout. She brandished her hands in front of her, and Miranda felt great gusts of wind surging around her, blowing her hair in all directions as Octavia's wind magic lifted up the stone table around which they were sat and hurled it straight for the intruder on their pleasure.

  It flew so fast that the man had no time to dodge aside, nor even to raise his hands to shield his face from the blow. The table slammed into him with a crunch, carrying him backwards straight into the willow tree, which bent and cracked beneath the impact. The man's leg twitched as the table stopped moving.

  Princess Romana's eyebrows were so high up they were practically hidded behind her bangs. "That...you are quite the magical prodigy, Filia Octavia."

  "That was absolutely superb," Miranda said.

  Octavia looked back her, a smile upon her face. "Really? You thought so?"

  "Why wouldn't I?" Miranda asked. "You were-"

  Portia shrieked as the man pushed the table off him and, groaning, climbed to his feet. Without saying a word, with no noise but a grunt of effort, he picked the stone table up off the ground and threw it at them.

  "Get down!" Octavia yelled, and Miranda felt a gust of wind pushing her off her feet, throwing her down into the grass. Portia yelped as a similar gust knocked her off her feet, while Romana seemed to have been throwing herself to the floor anyway, and so was bounced along the ground for three feet after landing.

  That left only Octavia still standing, and the table coming straight for her.

  "Octavia!" Miranda yelled.

  Octavia raised one hand, her hair blowing in all directions she called her magic to her, trying not to stop the table but to deflect it upwards, over her head and over the other ladies.

  The edge of the stone table caught the top of Octavia's head with a crack, knocking her backwards onto the grass, arms and wings spread out, eyes closed, head lolling to one side. Silent and unmoving.

  No, no, not you. I cannot lose you.

  I will not lose you, though if I have to rend the veil between this world and the next and drag you back from death to keep you by my side I will.

  Octavia, please don't die.

  The assassin had paused in his advance, his sword in one hand and a knife in the other, looking between the three women as if he was not sure which of them he should kill first.

  Miranda hated the sight of him. Bile rose up in her throat, some beast she had not known was there roared out from deep within her soul, and all she wanted was to make this little bastard hurt the way that he had hurt Octavia.

  She had never understood, before, what it was that made Michael want to go out and mutilate people in the arena, how he could take joy in the pain of others, how he could laugh at death, how he could torture people with such artistry.

  Now she understood where his wrath came from perfectly.

  And she had the power to hurt that her brother and his swords could never match.

  I hope Helen Manzikes hears you screaming.

  Miranda pushed herself up onto her knees, focussed her power, called upon her magic, fed it to her anger, and poured forth all her will onto the man before her.

  And he burned.

  The fires started at his feet, and he stopped and stared as though he did not know what was happening. Then they spread upwards with all the speed of a wild fire, consuming his legs, his chest, his arms. He screamed, he thrashed wildly, he beat at his burning limbs with his equally burning hands.

  And then he stopped screaming.

  Miranda let out a deep breath, but tried to ignore how suddenly tired she felt as she dragged herself over to Octavia's side.

  "Miranda, look out!" Portia shrieked.

  Miranda looked up as a shadow fell over her: a second man, with sallow skin and lank hair, more wiry of build than the first. She raised her hand, but the other man was faster and he...emptied a pouch full of dust all over her.

  Miranda coughed and spluttered as the dust got inside her throat and in her eyes. She shook her head, blinking rapidly, trying to get the black dirt out, trying to see. She tried to summon her magic to defend her, to spread fire and lightning in all directions...but none came. A few candle flames appeared at her fingertips, a touch of lightning sparked...but no inferno erupted, no storms of lightning thundered forth. It was as if her magic had been trapped somehow, chained within her body, rendering her powerless.

  "Stardust. How very clever of you. Moreso than your unfortunate friend, at any rate."

  Miranda rubbed her eyes to see Princess Romana on her feet, standing between Portia and the second assassin, her hair a little ruffled and her face stained with dirt, but she had assumed such perfect poise that none of that mattered. It didn't matter that she was roughly ha
lf the size of the man opposed to her, it didn't matter that she was a slight and willowy figure. It didn't even matter that she was without a weapon. Romana stood as proud as ever her beloved Aegea could have done.

  "I strongly advise you to leave while you still can," Romana said. "Whoever you came here to kill, you shall not harm them."

  "Will I not?" the assassin demanded. "Because you'll stop me?"

  "Goodness no," Princess Romana said lightly. "A princess would never demean herself by engaging in close quarters combat with a brute like you." She smiled. "I have people to do that for me. Now!"

  "Who are y-"

  A wolf snarled as it bounded across the gardens, fangs bared, and leapt straight for the assassin's throat. It hit him square in the chest, knocking him to the ground, and Miranda saw the wolf tear at his neck as the man screamed in pain. Two more wolves ran out of the bushes, howling as they did so, and hurled themselves over Miranda and onto the stricken man. He was still screaming when they started to eat him.

  Princess Romana's smile broadened. "Good boys." She glanced behind her. "And that, Your Majesty, is why it always pays to have one's guards nearby."

  Miranda scrambled across the ground, half to get away from the wolves and half to reach Octavia. "Octavia?" she said, cradling her lover's head in her arms. "Octavia, can you hear me? Octavia!"

  She tried to summon her magic to heal the cut on Octavia's forehead, but it still would not come. God under the waves what's the matter with me? "Octavia!"

  Octavia's eyes flickered open. "Miranda...Miranda! You're all right."

  "Yes," Miranda said. "Yes, I'm fine, and so are you. Thank God." She kissed her. "I thought that...I was..."

  "Do you need a hand getting up?" Romana asked as she helped Portia to her feet. She picked up Miranda's stick off the ground and handed it to her. "Impressive magic, by the way, Filia."

  "Thank you," Miranda murmured as she pushed herself up off the ground, then helped Octavia up after her. "What happened though? I couldn't use magic on the second man."