Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (59 page)

Miranda wrote down her own name and that of Quirian for completeness sake. "Now, what strikes you as odd about this list."

"Your name," Ascanius said after a moment.

"And Lord Quirian's, for that matter," Julian added.

"Exactly," Miranda said, nodding. She crossed off those two names. "Now what kind of list do we have?"

"Soldiers," Octavia said.

"Not just any soldiers, love," Ascanius said. "Oretine veterans. Every single one of those names was in Oretar with us, with Lysimachus."

"And that would make sense, because you told me that Lysimachus was obsessed with Oretar, with the war," Miranda said. "But that doesn't make any sense if you add myself or Lord Quirian to the list. Why would Lysimachus want to kill either of us?"

"He was mad," Julian said.

"No, I don't think he was," Miranda said. "I think...I think..."

"What?" Octavia asked. "What does it mean?"

"It means," Abigail spoke firmly and deliberately. "That Lord Quirian and Lysimachus conspired to establish his little rampage, then for him to die in Quirian's courtyard at the hands of the golems."

Ascanius was silent for a moment. "Damn and damnation."

"Strength of Beltor and Silwa," Julian said. "You can't be serious."

"I don't understand," Octavia murmured. "Why would Lord Father do something like that?"

"I don't believe that any of the other deaths mattered to Quirian," Miranda said. "Lord Manzikes, yes, the very first, but after that he just told Lysimachus to go out and kill people and he, of course, took the opportunity to settle scores with people he had grudges against for the Oretine War. All that mattered to Quirian was that all the great and good of the Empire would see my golems kill a man against whom all the legions had done nothing. Now people are talking seriously about replacing the soldiers of the Impeiral Army with golems. The entire purpose of Lysimachus' rampage, the reason he died...was to advance that goal."

"Assuming that Lysimachus was willing to die for something like that," Julian said.

"Don't be an idiot, Julian, of course Lysimachus was willing to die," Ascanius spat. "He was always talking about how we needed to atone for what we'd done. Giving his life to bring down the whole army...I think the sergeant-major would enjoy that, in as much as the sour old bastard enjoyed anything."

"I don't believe it," Octavia said. "I don't think Lord Father would... why would he do something like that? Miranda almost died!"

"Lord Quirian strikes me as a man very confident he can reach the outcome he desires, without letting such things as chance get in his way," Miranda said, which made Abigail laugh for some strange reason. "He must have judged the risk worth taking. After all, if golems do replace soldiers as the bulwark of the Empire's defence, it puts Prince Antiochus in a much stronger position towards the throne."

"Tsk, and you were doing so well," Abigail said.

Miranda glared at her. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Abigail smiled thinly. "I'm not altogether surprised that the patricians of this city fail to realise what is really going on, but I am surprised that you, who boast so of your freedom from deference and snobbery, should honestly believe that a man like Quirian is nothing more than the lickspittle to a fool like Prince Antiochus."

Miranda blinked. It was true that Prince Antiochus did not give the impression of being as intelligent as Lord Quirian, but she would not have called him a fool either. And he was a prince of the blood Imperial, while Lord Quirian was a nobody whose claim even to the title of lord was dubious, if Princess Romana was to be believed. What could he hope for, without a princes' patronage?

"I don't deny that Lord Quirian is cleverer by a degree than Prince Antiochus," Miranda said. "But he could accomplish as little on his own as I could without Lord Quirian; in this city, character is less important than birth in this city."

"How quickly they have taught you to believe that," Abigail murmured.

Miranda shook her head, dismissing the woman's riddles from her mind. "Anyway, the point is what do we do about this?"

"We don't mention it to anyone else, for a start," Ascanius said. "We keep quiet, we keep our heads down, and we wait to see where it leads. We don't speak of this outside of this room, and we don't speak of it to anyone but the five of us, got it?"

Miranda nodded. "I understand."

"I'll keep my mouth shut," Julian said.

"You may count on my discretion," Abigail added.

Octavia hesitated.

Miranda frowned. "I'm sorry, Octavia. I shouldn't have let you hear this. It wasn't right of me to-"

"I promise," Octavia whispered. "I love you, Miranda. I won't ever betray you, not even to my Lord Father. I'll keep your secret and I'll keep you safe, whatever happens."

Whatever happens,
Miranda thought. That phrase worried her far more now than it had done before this insidious path of thought had opened up to her. For what might happen now? What might Lord Quirian and the prince be planning, in the end? And, if he had killed Lysimachus as a stepping stone to his goals, how many more lives might Quirian snuff out before he had all that he desired?

XIV

A Test of Strength

"I hope you realise just how much you've done it now."

The voice was unfamiliar. A woman's voice, not Amy or Tullia. He didn't recognise it.

"I couldn't just leave them out there, this one was going to die." Michael recognised that voice without knowing it. It was that woman, the one with the green skin. He had no idea who she was beyond that.

"And why should we worry about that?"

"Because you didn't see how brave they were out there. I respect that. We could use more spirit like they have in this forest."

"Could we, indeed? I wonder."

Michael groaned, and his eyes began to open.

"He's waking up!" Amy said.

Michael's eyes opened and he beheld trees above him, masses of lush green suspended from willowy branches waving in the breeze. Birds sang. He took in a deep breath of cool forest air. The oppressive heat of Deucalia province seemed entirely absent from this place.

Amy's face appeared above him, grinning broadly. "How do you feel, our Michael?"

"Surprisingly well, all things considered," Michael muttered as he tried to sit up. He felt a jolt of pain and a kind of sticking sensation. He looked down and saw that someone had taken his tunic off and, more strangely, stuck a black beetle the size of a fist to his side where he had been stabbed. "What is this?"

"An insect," Jason said from where he lounged against a nearby silver birch. His Highness had recovered his staff, and his wand and rod were both thrust into his belt, but he had bandages that appeared to be made of leaves wrapped around his hands, and orange paste smeared across his face at various points.

"Clearly," Michael said. "But I would like to know what it is doing?"

"Sucking the poison out of you," Jason said. "Saving your life."

As he spoke, the beetle made one last slurping noise and then dropped off Michael's wound, trundling away into the forest.

"Apparently, you should be all better now," Jason said.

"I am glad to see you better, Michael," Wyrrin murmured from where he sat sharpening his swords. "I apologise for allowing myself to be defeated in your absence."

Tullia was sitting at Michael's feet, one hand laid lightly across his own. Like the prince she served, she too had her face dabbed in that orange paste, and her hands were wrapped in bandages.

"I am glad to see you so swiftly recovered," she said.

Michael smiled. "I am glad to find myself in the land of the living, Filia. I would hate to be deprived of your company one moment before necessary."

"Talks funny, doesn't he?" someone said.

This time Michael really did sit up, despite the pain, and noticed that he and his companions were not alone.

They were all... truth to tell he was not quite sure what they all were. But though they looked human enough for the most part they all had a strange cast to their skin that he had never seen in humans. Most were a shade of green, but a few were orange, red, or yellow. Those were also the ones who seemed to look the oldest.

Closest to the company stood three young ladies, all with skin of a rich and vibrant green: the eldest with red hair and sapphire eyes; one looking about Amy's age with blonde hair, golden eyes and tattoos like runes covering her left arm; and a shorter girl who looked younger still, whose hair was ebony. The youngest of the three was half hiding behind the elder two, but it was only the blonde who seemed completely at ease and unafraid.

An array of the strangely hued folk stood round about, most of them bearing bows or spears. They looked at ease, but also alert, as if they half suspected treachery from those that they observed.

Michael clambered to his feet, touching his forelock to the ladies, then bowed. "Ladies, on behalf of myself and my dear friends and comrades I thank you all for your assistance. I am indebted to you. Michael Sebastian Callistus Dolabella ban Ezekiel at your service."

 The blonde-haired girl raised one eyebrow. "Are you sure he isn't the lord instead of you? He talks fancier than you do."

 "That's how you can tell he isn't the lord," Jason muttered.

 The dark haired girl hiding behind the blonde raised one nervous hand, "Hello, my name's Gwawr."

 "That's Princess Gwawr, show some pride little sister," the blonde shouted. "And I am Fiannuala, battle princess of the forest realm! Fiannuala the undefeated, Fiannuala the mighty, Fiannuala best and greatest!"

 Silence greeted this grandiose pronouncement. A cricket chirped somewhere off in the trees.

 "Oh come on, don't be like that," Fiannuala said.

 "I don't think they understood it, Fia," Gwawr said.

"Nobody understands it," said the red-head.

 "I have myself spoken in such a vein, declaring name and valour and intent, before the crowd and afore my foes ere strife began," Michael murmured. "As have many heroes of song and tale before me. But in the present company it seems unwarranted. Are we enemies now, to be spoken thus?"

 Fiannuala frowned, mouthing Michael's words. "Just because we're all friends here doesn't mean I have to be quiet and walk small now does it? I wanted you to know who I am so you remember that no matter how much I respect what I saw out there I'm the equal of any one of you in any respect, got it?"

 "Stop it, Fia, before he gets too confused," the redhead said. "My name is Cati, eldest daughter of King Gerallt and princess of Eena. The blockhead and the little mouse are my two sisters. When you were injured, Fiannuala brought you into our forest and had our healers patch you up. Apparently she was impressed with your fighting prowess."

 "It was magnificent," Fiannuala said. "The speed, the power, the blazing passion of fighting spirits in the full flower of their virtue! After a battle like that, worthy of great warriors, I could hardly leave you out there in the cold to suffer now could I?"

 Michael frowned. "Gideon, said that it was death to enter the forest." He turned to Amy and the others. "I presume that Gideon is scouting the surround. Do you know when he will return?"

"He isn't scouting," Amy muttered, while Jason looked away uncomfortably. "He hasn't recovered so swiftly as you."

Michael felt his blood chill. "Where is he?"

"Deeper in the forest, where more skilled healers tend to him," Cati said.

"I wish to see him," Michael demanded.

Cati nodded. "You shall. I apologise for separating you, but I could not bring you into the heart of the forest without the permission of the king."

"Yes, you could," Fiannuala said.

Cati turned upon her sister with a baleful gaze. "You are an idiot, so don't talk to me as if you somehow have more wisdom than I do. You should never have allowed them in here in the first place and you know it. You should be thankful that I haven't had the whole pack of them killed as I am in my rights to do. That I do not is of little thanks to you at all."

"You're not my mother and you can't talk to me like that, even if you are my older sister," Fiannuala shouted right back at her. "I let them in here and they can stay here for as long as I say and there isn't anything that you can-"

 Cati flicked her finger against Fiannuala's forehead, and instantly the princess was struck dumb, her eyes widening in surprise. Cati frowned, and vines sprang up from the ground to wrap themselves round Fiannuala's wrists, binding them together like ropes. Exactly like ropes, once the vines detached themselves from the ground to complete the binding.

 
That must have been wood magic,
Michael thought.

 Fiannuala growled, "Let me out of here!"

 Cati ignored her, turning her gaze upon the company. "Now, you must all come with me, where the king shall put our proposition to you."

"Proposition?" Fiannuala yelled.

"Proposition," Jason murmured. "That doesn't sound good."

"It is nothing more than a price we ask in return for our assistance and hospitality," Cati said. "Is that so unreasonable?"

"Not in principle, ma'am," Michael said softly. "But you and I both know that it depends entirely on what precisely you ask of us in exchange."

"Not as stupid as you sound, I see," Cati said with a slight smile. "Gwawr, come with me, there is no need for you to share in Fia's punishment."

 It was obvious by the look on her face that Gwawr would very much like to take up her oldest sister on this offer, yet with a nervous glance she looked up at Fiannuala and, with a soft moan of discomfort, moved to stand closer beside her.

 "It's okay," Fiannuala said, not looking down at Gwawr but still glaring at Cati. "Go with her."

 "But Fia-"

 "I'll be fine," Fiannuala said. She looked down at the youngest sister and grinned. "After all, the hero always gets away with it, right?"

 "Oh Gods, not another one," Jason said.

Cati gripped her staff, which was carved with runes much like the staff His Highness bore, and turned away. "Follow me then, all of you. The king, my father, awaits."

 The company was surrounded by warriors with spears and bows as they began to follow in Cati's footsteps.

"Can someone explain to me who these folk are?" Michael asked. "And why Gideon said that it was death to enter the forest."

"They're dryads, the children of Dala, the wood-folk," Amy said. "Evidently they generally don't care for trespassers."

 "I did not know that there were any communes of the Elder Races still surviving in the Empire, except for the aestivals at Hawk's Roost," Jason said. "No histories that I have read make mention of dryads."

 "We like our privacy, most of us," Fiannuala said. "Some of us don't, but our sisters don't pay any attention to us."

 Cati did not answer her sister's allegation, but she did drop back a little to speak to Michael and his companions. "Are you all aware of how men seized Pelarius from the elder races, and drove those peoples into the wilds of the north and west?"

 "Do not speak of it as though this was some piece of dirty wickedness, treacherously done through stealth or secrecy," Michael said. "You were bested soundly on the field of stricken battle following clean combat between our host and yours with the future of our peoples wagered on the outcome. The valour of men proved the greater, and the lands of Pelarius we took as forfeit for the victory." Wyrrin snorted softly at that, but Michael ignored him.

 "That is how men tell it, I've no doubt," Cati said.

"I have not heard this tale," said Tullia.

"When the old gods were fighting against the Lord of Darkness they each, save for Kinos and the Eldest One, created a race of children to worship and to serve them, " Amy said. "Turo created naiads, Dala created dryads, Arus created fire drakes, Mithrok created trolls, Thanates created aestivals and Stratos created tharils," Amy said. "So I'm half naiad, a child of Turo, while these dryads are the children of Dala, Wyrrin you is a child of Arus, and together we're all members of the elder races."

 "Men were the last of the races to be created by the gods," Michael said, taking up the story. "After the treason of the Eldest One, the old gods and the new combined to bring forth orc and elf. Finally the new gods, the Novar, worked alone and fashioned men.

"At first men were made the slaves of the elves and the elder races, who combined to hunt down and kill all those who resisted slavery. But in spite of all their efforts men rose up against their tormentors. In Corona, David and Jonathon, the first princes and founders of the royal house, led the battle and I am sure that in every land where tales are told of those days there is a hero who lit the way for this people to follow. The elves were overthrown, and fled men's anger across the sea."

 "I have heard it that they used magic to create a new world better suited to their liking and departed to it," Jason said. "No trace of them was ever found in Triazica, nor any other place visited by the Imperial Navy or by our merchants though they have travelled as far as Xiang-li and Ambhi."

 Michael shrugged. "Perhaps they journeyed across the sea and then created a new home using magic? I do not know. But the elder races did not flee, but raised an army to once more place mankind in bondage."

 "To preserve our homes," Cati said. "Do not mistake a last stand with a march of conquest. In any case, not all the elder races raised the army: the naiads sent but a hundred knights and their squires and retainers, not even a tithe of a tithe of their strength though they were mightiest of all the races and the most numerous."

 "We were obedient to the will of God," Amy said sharply. "Turo bade the Houses to keep their swords at home and so they did. Every naiad knows the story of the hundred, of how of that company which defied God's command not one knight, squire, naiad-at-arms or caedan swordmaster ever returned, not even my ancestor Niccolo, Turo's own son. That we have retained our greatness and not faded to a shadow of what we once were is due wholly to Turo's wisdom in preserving the Oceanhost from that disaster."

 "As you have probably guessed," Michael said to Tullia. "Men won the battle, took Pelarius for their own and drove the elder races into Lavissar and Mavenor. That is why the battle is known in the tales as the Field of Shattered Chains."