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

by Frances Smith

  "It is not our place to question the will of our Lord Father."

  "He lied to us, Metella," Felix practically shouted. "How can we be certain that we're doing the right thing?"

  "Who can truly know right and wrong?" Metella replied. "So long as we feel we acted in the right, it matters not if others agree or no."

  "Do you really believe that? Do you really believe that we're doing the right thing? What code tells you that?"

  "Lord Father saved my life, he gave me a home, a family," Metella said. "That is a debt that can never be repaid, yet I must try to repay it nonetheless with faithful and obedient service. How he employs me in that service matters not. And you, Captain? What code does Felix Callistus of Corona obey?"

  "I don't know," Felix moaned. "I just don't know. If I was Lucifer I could just follow orders. If I was Michael I could do the honourable thing. If I was Amy I could just do whatever made me happy. But I'm not any of those people, I'm Felix, and Felix has never had time to learn how he wants to live or what rules he wants to live by. Metella?"

  "Yes?"

  "Do you think I'm a good person?"

  Metella was perfectly still for a moment, and absolutely silent.

  "I think you will be," she said.

  "What should I do?" Felix asked. "What are you going to do?"

  "Watch and wait; obey Lord Father and pray for Michael. Pray for him, and for the souls of all those caught up in this night of cruelty."

  Felix nodded. Regardless of their intentions, regardless of their feelings, what could they really do now, but pray?

  Narses Skleros scowled as another column of golems advanced down the street towards his position. They had barely survived an assault by a dozen of the bastards, and now they had to face a score.

  He'd been reinforced at the Gate of Aegea by another vexillation of the Seventh, and the rest of the legion artillery, but considering how difficult it had been to bring the buggers down the last time...even if the assault didn't finish them, the one after this probably would.

  Not that he voiced any of these concerns. The last thing the lads needed was to think that he was nervous.

  "Steady boys," he said. "Line straight and shields up. Any man I see stepping back will answer to me."

  Since he was currently standing in front of the front line, he wouldn't have been able to see if the whole legion had run off and left him to fight this battle alone, but that always been Narses' way: rant, rave, curse up a storm at the buggers in a voice that could be heard from Eternal Pantheia to Lavissar, but always be at the forefront when the danger called. Never ask a man to give what he would not give of himself, even his life.

  He glanced up at Legate Commenae, mounted upon a white charger, wearing a coat of glittering scales, the very model of an Imperial officer. It was brave of him, to stay on the horse in a situation like this, but also very stupid and like to get him killed. His retainers - the sword- and shield-bearer he had brought back from Triazica, and the pair of muscular orcs he always had about him - had the better idea, meeting the golems on foot, where they could move more freely. Not that it would guarantee their survival, but it would not ensure their deaths.

  "If I may sir, can I recommend you get off the horse before one of those buggers yonder rips you off it," Narses said.

  "There are times, major, when morale is more important than safety," Lord Commenae replied.

  "It'll do the men's morale no good if you get ripped in half, sir," Narses muttered. "And if I let his daughter become a widow at her age I wouldn't be able to look his Lordship in the eye when we meet again in Eudora. Artillery, what are you fucking playing at! Let loose already!"

  The cords of the ballistae and the scorpiones twanged as the bolts let fly, zipping down the street with enough force to go clean through stone. One of them struck the leading golem, making its chest explode in a shower of dust and stone chips. The infantry cheered, but Narses could only scowl at the fact that that was the only bolt to hit its target. Most of the ballista bolts ended up buried in houses, bringing some of the walls down, and what bloody good was that to anyone?

  "What are you bloody aiming at?"

  "They’re moving targets, sir, and we haven’t been able to calculate the range."

  "Are you going to argue with me or are you going to reload?" Narses demanded. "Keep firing."

  A second volley fired forth, and another two golems fell.

  Seventeen. We might manage seventeen.

  Or they might not. Once they got into close combat it was only the hammers Narses had taken from every stonemason they had passed on the way to the gate that could really harm the golems. Swords, pila, arrows, these were made to kill men, not damage stone.

  The only consolation to him in this situation was that they would be unlikely to be interested in his lupus.

  Narses' eyes glanced up to where Marcus Silurius, resplendent in his wolf-pelt, carried the silver wolf snarling at the foe from atop its tall pole. The Seventh Legion, like all the legions, had its array of standards: the colours carried the history of the legion and the honour of the Empire, the imago symbolised the legion's loyalty to the Emperor, the vexillum marked out where each vexillation was amidst the chaos of battle. But the lupus had been given to the Seventh by the Divine Empress herself, touched by her hand and, so the tales went, kissed by her lips. It carried not only the legion's pride and honour but its connection to the Empress Aegea as well. He would rather it be stomped under the foot of some uncaring golem than carried to some dark place in Mavenor to be paraded before a tribe of hooting barbarians.

  Of course he would rather not loose it at all, but if the men saw him ordering the standard to be withdrawn to safety they would lose whatever courage they had left, and he would not do that to them.

  If they were to die then they would die as soldiers of the Seventh, with pride to the fore beneath the wolf standard.

  The artillery fired again, and this time every shot missed.

  "You lot are bloody useless," Silius said.

  "Silence in the ranks," Narses snapped, though personally he was in agreement. "Stand firm, prepare for battle." He raised his sword above his head, half expecting to get struck by lightning as he did so. "For throne! For Empire! For the pride of the Seventh Legion! Valiant and Victorious!"

  "By Arus, Lord of the all-consuming flames, by Thanates the mistress of the skies, by Stratos, master of lightning, I conjure thee: all-piercing spear!"

  A beam of bright light passed over the battle line of the Seventh Legion with a whoosh. It was broader than a shield and brighter than the sun, and struck five golems in a row, obliterating each and every one with a wordless explosion.

  "What in the-" Narses was interrupted by someone pushing past him at great speed: he had just enough time to catch the blur of a red cape flapping behind whoever it was, before someone was amongst the golems like a cat amongst a horde of mice, striking out this way and that, severing stone limbs and shattering rocky legs with single strokes by his shining swords.

  "Come on, make some room," a woman said as she, too, pushed past Narses, moving more slowly but more inexorably in her all-enclosing armour. She brushed him gently to one side before she charged forwards, shouting. "Niccolo! Niccolo! Niccolo and Searfire Peak!"

  She had a greatsword in her hands near as tall as she was, and it glowed bright blue as she swung it widely against the soldiers of stone. Whether there was magic in it or she was simply prodigiously strong, it smashed golems either way. Another bolt of magic soared over Narses' head to assist, and soon the golems were no more than rubble covering the street.

  "You could have left some more for me," the woman complained. "There was no need for you to rush ahead so fast."

  "We have need of haste," the man replied.

  "Speaking for myself, I feel very left out," a guttural voice said from behind Narses, and behind his men too. "I may need to eat the hearts of some strong enemies so that I can match your strength and prowess."

&n
bsp; Narses looked around to see a lizardman, whom after a moment he recognised as the reptilian rent-boy from the brothel where they had found Gideon Commenae, standing side by side with the Emperor's bastard son. There was a woman with them too, but frankly Narses was too surprised at the sight of the two men to pay her much mind. He swung back around, and recognised that man in the cape as being the little bastard from the brothel, the one who had thought to fight for Gideon in single combat.

  "You!" he spat.

  "You're welcome," the woman said.

  Narses scowled. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't have you all put to death on the spot."

  "Do you think you could?" she asked.

  "Major," the other woman said, and Narses could tell that there was something off about her right away. Her skin was too pale, her hair was too dark, her lips were too red, her body had no substance to it, he felt as though he ought to be able to see right through her. She looked perfect, but she also looked as though she wasn't really there, and Narses wouldn't have trusted either of those things and he certainly didn't trust them both together.

  "Major Skleros," she said again. "We are not your enemy. Michael, Jason is not your enemy."

  Narses pointed at Michael. "I've heard that Miranda Callistus is his sister. These golems are her doing, she's my enemy right enough."

  "I am not my sister," Michael said. "Would we have helped you if we were your enemies?"

  That made some sense, as far as it went. Narses scowled. "What's going on then? Can you explain that?"

  "Unfortunately not," the Emperor's bastard - Narses thought his name was Jason - muttered.

  "I can," Ascanius Posci Castra stepped out of the shadow of the burnt out shell of the public house. Julian Dalassena was, as ever, obediently following at his heels. "It is Miranda. But at the same time it isn't."

  Narses rolled his eyes. "Say what you mean and tell me everything." Unlike all the things you left out about Gideon Commenae.

  Ascanius hesitated. "Before I tell you anything I want you all to understand that I had no part in any of this, and I want the Lord Commenae's word of honour that we won't be held to account for-"

  "Get on with it before I have Syphax shoot the pair of you!" Narses yelled. "Syphax!"

  "Ready when you say, sir," Syphax said, fitting arrow to string. "It will be a pleasure."

  "I saved your life at Sagittar Valley," Ascanius spluttered with outrage.

  "And I saved yours at Cendra, we're even," Syphax said. "And you're a deserter."

  "Just tell them what happened," Julian said.

  "Not until I know they won't hang us for it," Ascanius said.

  The Lord Commenae dismounted. "On my honour as the Lord Commenae, and on the honour of my family, I give you my word that you will not be punished. Now say your peace, Posci."

  "The Emperor is dead," Ascanius said bluntly. "So are the Empress and Prince Antiochus."

  "And Lady Romana?" the Lord Commenae demanded.

  "Still alive, when I left her," Ascanius said. "She’s holed up in the east wing with some of her men."

  "Praise the gods the line is not extinct," the Lord Commenae murmured. "Empress Romana now, it would seem."

  "Princess Imperial," Michael murmured.

  "How did this happen?" Jason asked. "How did they all die?"

  "Prince Antiochus killed their majesties," Julian said. "The room was filled with his supporters, anyone who wasn't his supporter died. The doors were sealed, most of the guard took his part, and those who did not perished. A few men loyal to Princess Romana managed to get her out and to a degree of safety."

  "Prince Antiochus," the Lord Commenae murmured. He struck his fist into his palm. "Bloody man! I knew he was not to be trusted but this...? How did he expect to get away with this?"

  "Using the golems most like, to kill everyone who'd stand against him," Narses said. "I wouldn't put this rain of fire past him either. Except you said he was dead too."

  Ascanius nodded. "Lord Quirian was there, when the...when it happened. So was Filia Miranda."

  "She loved the Empress," Julian said. "They were closer than anyone save Filia Octavia."

  The Lord Commenae nodded. "Yes, it's been the gossip of the city since Filia Miranda arrived, the Empress being so close with one of such low birth. Of course, Her Majesty is quite lowborn herself, or was."

  "Filia Miranda wasn't too happy about the Empress' death," Ascanius said. "She burned Prince Antiochus to ashes, and any of his supporters she could see as well. Then she set her golems loose upon the palace guard, while Quirian's men finished off anyone else they could find of the prince's party."

  "I see," the Lord Commenae murmured. "Well, there is a certain justice in His Highness death, the victim of his own ill-conceived machinations. But, having wiped out his faction and slaughtered his guards, why set the golems loose upon the city? And why this assault from the air?"

  "Quirian's choice," Michael said softly. "She has done as he hoped she would, and judged the Empire guilty. She means to scourge this nation clean of all its sins."

  "The Empress' death has driven her mad," Ascanius said.

  "Bloody black abyss," Narses spat. "What do we do, sir?"

  "What can we do at present, Major?" the Lord Commenae replied. "Most of the army is engaged fighting fires in the New City, or else trying to struggle up the Imperial Way in the face of half the population of Eternal Pantheia going the other way. We don't have the full strength of the Seventh, and we would need substantial reinforcements to even contemplate a push on the palace. I don't see that we can do anything but hold this position until more of the brigade can join us."

  "I can stop her," Michael said firmly. "I will suffer no harm to come to my sister, but I can sway her from her course."

  "What makes you think we care what you will suffer?" Narses demanded.

  "What makes you think you can defeat the golems without me?" Michael replied.

  "Is this really the time to compare the lengths of your swords?" Jason asked.

  The Lord Commenae snorted. "Do you really believe this? Do you really believe that you can stop your sister?"

  Michael drew himself up proudly. "With the Empress help, yes, and slay Quirian too."

  "Never mind that," the Lord Commenae said. "Go, take these two with you," he gestured to Ascanius and Julian. "Get into the palace - you seem to have a knack for getting in and out - and fetch out Princess Romana. We must get her to safety; she is the last of the bloodline. If she dies, then even if the city is saved it will mean civil war and probably the collapse of the Empire, too. You must go into the palace, get Princess Romana out and deliver her into my charge, mine and only mine."

  Narses frowned at that, for it was an odd condition to insist upon, unless the Lord Commenae was already preparing for what would happen once this battle was decided, when the new Empress would have need of trustworthy men around her as her councillors…or her masters in all but name.

  Narses Skleros liked Legate Commenae, he was a good officer and a good legate, and more a gentleman than not. But he was still a great lord more than he was a soldier, and couldn't resist bringing political bollocks like this into military affairs. He had hoped that His Lordship would have taught his son in law better.

  "Then, once the Princess is secured, stop your sister," the Lord Commenae finished. "Destroy the golems; end this rain of fire and ice. Quirian can be dealt with later."

  "And Miranda's fate?" Michael asked.

  "The Empress will decide," the Lord Commenae answered. "But I shall argue mercy."

  Michael stared at him for a moment, before he gave a curt nod. "I shall do what I must, to preserve the Empire. I thank you, my lord, for giving me your trust."

  "Go," the Lord Commenae said. "And go swiftly."

  Narses watched them go: the Coronim, the woman with the great-sword, the other woman whom he didn't trust, the lizard, the bastard and the two deserters, moving at a run through the city streets, vanishing into the laby
rinth of buildings and the smoke from Miranda's fires.

  "Do you trust them, sir?" he asked. "Really?"

  The Lord Commenae shrugged. "If they succeed, then the Empire will be saved. If they perish in the attempt we have lost nothing. Why not let them try?"

  "With all due respect, sir, you're a cold man."

  "I am a politician, major; I don't have the luxury of heated passions."

  Vergillia roared with anger as she unleashed a jet of crimson fire from the palms of her hands.

  She was standing in front of Aulo's Hospital; her feet spread apart, dark hair askew, sweat dropping from her brow in an ever increasing flood. She could feel the heat from her fire, heat so hot and light so bright she wanted to shut her eyes against it. She felt as though her blood was burning. She felt as though her chest would crack open. She felt as though her skin would melt. She had never gone this hot or, indeed, created a single pure burst to reach this far before.

  And it wasn't doing a thing.

  The stone giant kept on coming. At the moment it was about twenty feet away from her, and Vergillia's flaming jet had completely engulfed its chest, but it kept on coming. The fire wasn't hurting it at all. It wasn't doing anything.

  Vergillia shrieked in frustration. "Stop! Go away! Die already!"

  The stone giant didn't say anything. It probably couldn't talk or it would have gloated by now. It just kept on plodding along, one heavy step at a time, while Vergillia's fire surged around it to no avail.

  I'm sorry, Tullia. I'm really sorry.

  Terentia came running out of the hospital, her devotees robes rippling around her, a knife held loosely in one hand, as though that was going to do any good against something that couldn't be hurt by fire.

  "It's no good," she said. "You should run, while you still have the chance."

  Vergillia didn't respond to a statement that didn't deserve a response. She just grunted, and kept on launching fire from her hands.

  Come on, melt. Melt, curse you. Surely you'll have to melt at some point won't you? Soon?

  "Vergillia!" Terentia shouted in her ear. "There's nothing you can do so save yourself!"