Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2)

by Frances Smith

  "Aegea never suffered traitors to live a day longer than necessary," Helen Manzikes muttered.

  Oh God, I'm losing.

  And then she had it.

  "I demand to know," Miranda declared. "By what right and authority the Lord Commenae took it upon himself to arrest anyone. You are not an officer of the law, you had no right-"

  "Gideon Commenae has betrayed his uniform and his country and broken several articles of military law," the Lord Commenae responded. "I was perfectly within my rights as legate of the Seventh Legion-"

  Got you.

  "But you are not legate of the Seventh Legion, my lord," Miranda said. "As Commander of the Imperial Army I have dismissed you from your post; you no longer have the authority to arrest any man for breaches of military law, and you certainly have no authority where the civil law is concerned. As a result-"

  "When was I removed?" the Lord Commenae demanded.

  "Last night," Miranda said with an absolutely straight face.

  The Lord Commenae scoffed. "Your Majesty, will you permit this farce? It is obvious that this woman will say anything to let her brother walk free."

  "Is this true, Commander?" the Emperor asked. "Was the Lord Commenae dismissed last night?"

  "Yes," Miranda said immediately. It will be true by the time I get the paperwork done.

  "Then why was I not notified?" the Lord Commenae shouted. "And who has succeeded me to command of the legion?" He smiled. "In absence of a legate command falls to Major Narses Skleros as the ranking officer and he, too, was present at the arrests of Gideon Commenae, Michael Callistus and Jason Nemon Filius. Or did you dismiss Major Skleros also but forgot to mention it until now?"

  "Do not tempt me, my lord," Miranda said.

  "Your Majesty this is ridiculous," the Lord Commenae said. "Bad enough that you think you can appoint this woman to command, but to have her abuse her authority-"

  "Think?" the Emperor said. "Think I can? Are you questioning my appointment, my lord? Are you questioning me?"

  "I question your judgement in this matter, Majesty," the Lord Commenae said.

  The Emperor glared at him. "You are dismissed, my lord. From your command... and from my sight. Be gone!"

  The Lord Commenae's face reddened, and he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say a word the sound of drums began to echo through the palace. Drums pounding from all sides, their rattling filling the air. A murmur of consternation ran through the assembled lords and officers.

  "It can't be," Nikephorus muttered.

  "What is it?" Miranda asked.

  "The guard are being called to arms," Quirian said. "It would appear that the palace is under attack."

  Michael found himself swiftly tossed in a cell with Gideon and His highness. The sound of the door slamming upon him, clanking shut with a rattle of keys as it was locked, was familiar to him, stirring up memories of returning to the arena after a battle. And if he had no euphoria of victory to comfort him, at least he had Gideon and Jason to keep him company.

  "What did she say?" Jason asked.

  "Her Highness or my sister?" Michael asked. "I saw them both."

  "Miranda, first," Gideon said. "I am a trifle surprised that she was free to see you."

  Michael frowned, sitting down on the floor in the corner of the cell. "She seemed...content. Less moral than once she was, but still content. And not a captive."

  Jason was looking at him intently; his eyes were keen but hooded. Gideon looked wary, though Michael could not say why.

  "Less moral?" Jason said. "How do you mean?"

  Michael sighed. "My sister has always known what she wanted, how to get it, what choices to make. While I was confused, lost in a deluge of fantasies and contradicting desires, Miranda never lost her sense of right and wrong. For that reason I would dread her visits: her judgement, her moral authority, it shamed me. Today it was as though I was certain and she was confused. She is making golems for Quirian."

  Gideon's eyes widened. "An army of stone."

  "A what?"

  "Stone soldiers, your highness," Michael said. "They sound formidable."

  "I'm sure," Jason said. "But that is a far cry from the annihilation of the Empire."

  Michael nodded. "There must be more to the business, some secret plan of which Miranda is unaware. Quirian has done something far cleverer than kidnap her, he has won her over to his diabolical cause. He is very clever."

  "Or we are very foolish," Jason said.

  Michael ignored him. "I wonder what he told her."

  "The same things you were told, I imagine," Jason said.

  "What convinced her?" Michael asked.

  "What convinced you?" asked Jason.

  Michael scowled. "I get the impression that you have something you wish to say, your highness. Please say it, for I am slow of wit and lack patience for subtle words or sly suggestion."

  Jason sighed, and rose to his feet. "The facts of the matter have been so obvious for such a long time than I can only conclude that it is deliberate obtuseness on your part that has allowed you to ignore them: that man there is a murderer and a traitor and he has used us exactly as Quirian is using Miranda." He pointed at Gideon. "He is exactly the same as the man he claims to be trying to fight. Worse, in some ways, and we are all just weapons for him to use and cast aside."

  Michael shook his head. "Your Highness is wrong. You are absolutely wrong, what you say is false."

  Jason made a disapproving sound with his tongue. "It has never even occurred to you, has it, that Gideon might be the murderer they all accuse him of being?"

  Michael frowned, "Of course not Your Highness, Gideon told me─"

  "A lie to gain your trust and make himself look better in your eyes," Jason said. "Quirian, kill Bardas Commenae? Why? Because Bardas Commenae was a threat to him, oh please. He has not killed us, he has not ordered the death of the Emperor, it is plain he thinks absolutely nothing of the Empire's ability to resist him. But of course, there was a man who could have benefited handsomely from the death of his much admired elder brother."

  "I beg your highness, stop this," Michael said quietly. It is not true. Gideon will deny it and shatter these calumnies with a word.

  "We all heard him muttering in his fever in the woods of Eena," Jason pressed. "Shouting at his brother, quarrelling with him. Arguing violently. Gideon hated his brother, and any man who knew the pair of them will tell you so."

  "Because they have had ten years to convince themselves Gideon killed his brother," Michael replied uncertainly.

  "He fled the city before the body was even cold!"

  "Because the Empire's cause would not wait for him to be proven innocent."

  "Because he was a murderer and he fled the scene of the crime ere the crowing of the cockerel," Jason shouted. "You heard the Lord Commenae: Bardas left to confront his brother and was never seen again alive. There is no evidence that Quirian was even in Eternal Pantheia at the time."

  "Stop it," Michael murmured. "Please."

  "No, I won't stop, because it's high time that you stopped hiding and opened your eyes. So you're going to hear this, and you're going to get it into your head that this is the real world and this man is a murderer─"

  "Stop it!" Michael shouted. "Stop it; just don't say anything else, please! You can hate me if you want to, but please stop talking! It's not true, it isn't." He sobbed, sobs that were childlike, seeking for reassurance rather than providing certainty. "It's all lies. Please, Gideon, tell him."

  Gideon's head was bowed, his chin resting upon his chest. His eyes were closed. "Everything that Jason says of me is true."

  Michael was silent. He blinked, waiting for an ironic smile, a laugh, some mockery of his credulity. But none such came.

  "No," Michael whispered.

  "I am afraid I must offer you my apologies," Gideon said slowly, softly. "I have been deceiving you since the day we met. I feared that you would refuse to assist a fratricide, and so I told you
a lie that would make it easier for you to accept me. I needed your help too much to risk the truth. But I did kill Bardas. Not the least, and unfortunately not the last of my sins."

  Michael shook his head. "No, it isn't true."

  "If only that were so," Gideon sighed. "But I think, much as I might wish it otherwise, that it is time for you to hear the truth."

  "What if I don't want to hear?" Michael asked. "What if I'd rather believe the lies? What if I would rather believe you are the man I came to admire? Came to love?"

  Gideon smiled sadly. "I am afraid the world rarely gives us all the things we want."

  "You said you'd give your life to spare me pain, but all I'm asking you to give up is truth, is that so hard?"

  "Michael," Gideon said sternly. "This childishness is unbecoming. Settle down, and bear this as a man bears misfortune. Would that I had born my own misfortunes so."

  "I suppose now you will offer up some defence," Jason grumbled. "Some reason you were forced to do the things you did?"

  "Forced? No," Gideon said. "I will not deny that all my errors were the results of my own bad judgements, the flaws in my soul I was unaware of until it was too late to avert the tragedy.

  "To be born into the House Commenae is to be heir to many things: wealth, land, the finest horses in the Empire, but most of all it is to be heir to a legacy of greatness. Thirty generations separate me from Isaiah Commenae, who stood at the right hand of Aegea, and not a single one of those Commenae past lived or died in obscurity. They were soldiers, heroes, generals, governors and statesmen, ambassadors. Even those who eschewed the traditional pursuits of war and politics distinguished themselves in their chosen fields: Cornelius Commenae was the foremost alchemist of his day, while Publius Commenae became the father of Stoic philosophy. To be mediocre, to be ordinary, to be average, these things are not tolerated in the Commenae family. I learnt very early on that I was expected to be extraordinary, and I vowed to myself that I would be the most extraordinary of all.

  "I spent my childhood with more books than friends, and from those books I first imbibed the love of Aegea, my admiration for her vision and my contempt for the parlous state into which the Empire had been allowed to fall. I conceived the notion that I would save the Empire, restore the work of Aegea to its height, and thus shine more brightly than any Commenae had before me. I was not completely selfish in my ambitions, I do love this country with all my heart and I always have, my devotion to the Empress was the only devotion I felt to anyone or anything in my younger days. But I was also terribly ambitious. Like you, Michael, I was torn between my desire for fame and my devotion to duty. When I was a young man, I believed that I could balance them both. Perhaps I could have done so, had fortune favoured me.

  "I trained obsessively in the sword until I was known as the finest swordsman in Eternal Pantheia, and I was outspoken in my worship of Aegea the Divine. I was initiated into one of the cults which keeps the faith alive, the Blades of Aegea, and it was at a session of the cult that I first communed with Aegea through the use of soulbark.

  "The Empress counselled me against my ambitions, warned me of their capacity to poison my soul, but I did not listen. I was convinced that my destiny would carry me to glory, forgetting that the rewards of faithful service are more often spiritual than temporal. Shortly afterwards the Oretine War began. The King of Oretar rebelled against the heavy tribute we demanded and the interference of the publicani in his realm. The Empire, even though its cause was hardly just in this instance, could not brook the humiliation. The army was sent in to teach our wayward children what happens when a son presumes to raise a stick against his father.

  "When war broke out, I rejoiced. Here, I thought, was the stage on which I would bestride in glory and make my name forever more. But my father did not wish both his sons to risk their lives upon the hazards of the field at once, and pulled strings to have me held back when my legion went to war. As a result, Bardas arrived at the front first and began to make quite a reputation of his own.

  "But victory was not swift. The Oretines retreated into the high mountains and the hosts of the Empire became bogged down trying to pursue an elusive foe who never offered battle but struck in pinpricks from hidden fastnesses. My father died, and I rushed to the fighting with unseemly haste once he was no longer there to hold me back. I served Aegea so well that she anointed me First Sword of the Empire, though few believed me when I claimed the title and none acknowledged it. The war took on a harsher turn. We did many things which were not strictly honourable. Bardas didn't have the stomach to do what was necessary, but I did. That was when I became known as the Butcher of Oretar. But our tactics worked, the Oretine forces' supplies of food were cut off and the local populace stopped supporting them. They came down out of the mountains, gave battle and were defeated. Oretar surrendered not long after.

  "Peace returned, and I was most unsatisfied. Bardas, not I, was acclaimed the hero of the war by an Empire that wanted to forget the things that it had done to secure victory. I was the butcher, best forgotten. Nobody could think of much use for over-proud Gideon Commenae. I was put out to pasture. That was when I was approached by Quirian. At first I thought that I could string him along, play him for a fool until I learned his plans. But then, the most shameful thing happened: Quirian turned me and made me his.

  "You are less humble than you affect to be, Michael, but you cannot conceive of how ambitious I was, or how the thwarting of my ambitions had twisted my soul. Quirian perceived that clearly, and used it to manipulate me. He was so understanding, so kind, and so sympathetic that it fair swept me away. He appreciated me for all the right reasons: my abilities, my intelligence, my valour, my daring. Such plans we made together. He shared with me his deepest secrets: what he knew of the Aurelian legacy, his own heritage, how he had spent the long centuries searching for some spark of that ancient power. It was then that we hatched our grand design: we would seek for the heir to the Aurelian magic together, and take it for our own using the blade Semper Fidelis. With that power at our fingertips we would reshape the world, restore the Empire to Aegea's vision, stand guardian over the state as its immortal champions, the link between the Prince Imperial and the Empress. Gideon Commenae, the Eternal Regent and Lord Protector of the Empire. A title to put Bardas to shame and eclipse every single Commenae who had come before or would come after."

  "Stop it, Gideon, I don't want to hear any more," Michael said. He did not want to know this; he did not want to be told that the man he thought was made of gold had been just gilded lead this entire time. A man no better than the one who had sired Michael himself.

  "I am afraid there is worse to come. Bardas grew suspicious; one night he confronted me with his suspicions. We argued, with all my resentments and jealousies coming to the fore. I drew my sword. He had come unarmed. I struck him down. And then the Empress appeared to me.

  "It is very rare, for that to happen. As I told you, spirits cannot initiate the bond of Spirit Magic, only mortals can do so. But the Empress is not a spirit but a god, and so great was her wrath that she tore open the veil between life and death and dragged me before her. Her rage was great, so great she nearly slew me in her fury. She opened my eyes to what I had become: a traitor, and now a murderer too. She swept my head clear of all my self-delusions, the illusions I had spun with Quirian's help. She tasked me with saving the Empire from the man I had called friend, by that path alone could I atone for my sins against Bardas and against the Empress herself. I vowed to do so, and was cast out into the living world. I fled Eternal Pantheia that very night."

  "But that was ten years ago, since then you have reformed yourself in the Empress' grace," Michael protested. "You have worked tirelessly all this time to save the Empire from Quirian. You have become a better man."

  "I am afraid I was no better until I met you, Michael," Gideon said ruefully.

  Michael shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach as he fought the realisation of what Gideon meant. N
o, no, it can't be true. He said, "I don't know what you mean."

  "I had been willing, with Quirian's aid, to kill the inheritor of the Aurelian magic in order to take the magic for my own. I was willing to do as Quirian planned. And the truth is that remained my intent. When Miranda was first taken by Quirian, I planned to make her magic mine; I had not abandoned my dreams for mastery of the Empire."

  "No," Michael shook his head.

  "Jason, you asked why it was necessary to obtain the sword. Originally I wanted it because I had planned to use it... to kill Miranda."

  "No," Michael shouted. "Please Gideon, I beg of you, no more."

  Gideon fell silent.

  Jason asked, "You said that you 'had' planned. When did you stop?"

  "Davidheyr," Gideon said. "That was when I truly realised what a prize I had in you, Michael, something much rarer than Aurelian magic: a man of true devotion, worthy and willing to succeed me as First Sword. You, Michael, you have saved my soul with your courage, your faith."

  Michael bowed his head, his long dark locks falling to conceal his face, "Why? Why did you have to make me care so much about you? Why did you have to make me love you?"

  "Michael─" Gideon began.

  "Quiet," Michael hissed. "You were going to kill Miranda. My own sister. I cannot… I have to… I..." He screwed his eyes tight shut. A man takes care of his family. A good man, a good son, a good brother. The Last Firstborn. He could not choose Gideon over Miranda. He could not do it. He had to protect his sister, no matter who he was protecting her from.

  No matter how much it hurt him.

  Slowly Michael rose to his feet, and like some shambling monster he staggered across the cell to where Gideon sat.

  Gideon looked at him calmly, as if he knew what was coming and did not mind.

  "I promise, Mother," Michael whispered as he wrapped his hands around Gideon's throat while Jason looked on in eagerness.

  Michael squeezed, and Gideon offered no resistance as his breathing began to choke.