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

by Frances Smith

  "Of course we do," the brunette said. "We are his enemies."

  "Filia Miranda, may I present Lord Manzikes' daughters: his heir, Helen, and my wife Anna."

  "What is she doing here?" asked Anna, the blonde and more beautiful of the two daughters.

  "I am here to help, as best I can," Miranda said. "If only to avert a civil war."

  The two young ladies looked at one another.

  "You are Papa's heir, Helen," Anna said. "This is your decision."

  Helen Manzikes frowned. "It seems that we have much to gain but nothing to lose. Do what you can, Filia, and I will consider the political implications later."

  "Thank you, Lady Helen," Miranda said. "Now, if you would give me a little room to approach.

  Lord Manzikes' daughters cleared the way for her, and Miranda hobbled forwards to stand at Lord Manzikes' side, looking down upon the ailing soldier.

  It was clear from his frame that Lord Manzikes had once been a powerful man, but it was as though the flesh had melted from his frame, leaving his skin clinging to his bones. She could see his ribs, she could make out the bones of his shoulders and his arms, she could see the joints of his knees. His cheekbones were sunken, his skin was jaundiced; Miranda bent down and forced one of Lord Manzikes' eyes open and found that his pupils had yellowed.

  She could see his veins, and they were black.

  Miranda set her stick aside and sat down on the chair that Helen Manzikes had vacated. "Somebody give me a knife."

  "Are you mad?" Narses' spat.

  "I suspect that whatever is wrong is in his blood," Miranda explained, speaking quickly. "I need to find out for sure. All the time that he's been ill did you never once think of bleeding him."

  "We did bleed him," Helen said. "And many other things besides. If that is your advice then your coming here was a waste of time."

  "I can help your father but I need someone to give me a salt-stained knife!" Miranda snapped.

  "Silius, I know you've always got a knife handy," the Lord Commenae said. "Hand it over."

  "How many do you want, sir?"

  "Just the one will do fine," Miranda said.

  "Well, give it back when you're finished won't you?" he said. Miranda heard the sound of a blade being drawn, then felt the hilt of a knife being placed gently into her hand. It was a silver blade, she was surprised to see, with a mother of pearl handle. A much nicer weapon than she would have expected a common soldier to be carrying.

  She grabbed Lord Manzikes' wrist and held it out, calmly, slowly and carefully manoeuvring the knife to make the tiniest incision into his most visible blood vessel.

  Black ooze began to emerge, slowly and sluggishly. Miranda scooped a little bit up onto the blade and sniffed it tentatively.

  "Wrath of God, it's Traitor's End."

  "Traitor's End?" Lady Commenae asked.

  "A poison, sometimes used by the Crimson Rose back home," Miranda said. "I've seen it before. Kills slowly, but has no known antidote." A small smile crossed her lips. "Except for me, of course." She sliced up Lord Manzikes' vein, causing more black goo to splurge out onto his arm. Miranda held out the knife and felt someone take it away. "Thank you." She stood up. "Octavia, I will need both my hands free for this, so will you stop me from falling?"

  "Of course," Octavia murmured, putting her arms gently on Miranda's waist.

  Miranda let her stick drop to the floor - her leg twinged a little at the extra weight upon it, but Octavia was bearing most of the burden - and held out both her hands towards Lord Manzikes.

  She pulled upon her power like a stable hand pulling on the reins of an unruly horse, dragging into line, forcing it to obedience. It wanted to run wild. It wanted to be free, it wanted to explode. It was Miranda's role to control it, to master the power, to force it to obey her will.

  Her left hand began to glow, warming up as she reached out for the corruption filling Lord Manzikes. She could feel it working inside of him, clogging up his veins, choking his organs, slowing his heart. It was like a serpent writhing inside of him, sinking its fangs into every part of him. She sent her magic into her patient not like a cleansing fire, but like a hunting beast, sniffing out the taint, the illness, the poison. Her power grappled with the poison, wrestling with it, overpowering it, and then Miranda pulled.

  She pulled it out of him in a great black flood, erupting from the cut she had made, ooze pouring out like a mud slide in reverse. From every pore, from every smallest vessel, from liver and heart and throat Miranda pulled the poison out of him even as her hand burned so hot that she would have dropped it if she could.

  Miranda's eyes were wide but she saw nothing. The magic was all. She could not feel her leg, she could not feel Octavia. She could not feel the air crackling around her with power restrained. All she could feel was the magic flooding out of her and then returning, pulling all the corruption from Lord Manzikes' body and binding it together in a sphere before Miranda's palm.

  Then, with her right hand, she poured strength into the ailing lord. Even if she removed all of the poison, he was so weak that he was like to die anyway. Miranda lent him strength, by sheer will rebuilding his ravage muscles, putting flesh upon his bones, quickening his heart and breath. While her left hand burned, her right hand froze and Miranda began to tremble as all her strength ebbed out of her.

  And then she found that she had nothing left to give.

  The ball of oozing corruption she had drawn out of Lord Manzikes hit the floor with a splat, Miranda would have fallen if Octavia had not been holding her tight. She opened her eyes and could see everyone staring at her in amazement.

  "Silwa and Sera above us," Lady Helen murmured.

  "That was something else and a half, wasn't it, sarge?" one of the soldiers muttered.

  Major Skleros glared at them. "All right, that's enough, this isn't a gods-damned tavern you know. Get back to work, the lot of you, before I have you flogged till your backs are bloody! Out!"

  He slammed the door. There was a moment of silence. It was only then that Lady Commenae asked the question that Miranda was certain the others were all thinking.

  "Did it work?"

  Lord Manzikes certainly looked better: stronger, healthier. But he was still asleep. There would be no way to tell for sure until he woke.

  Fortunately, he chose that moment to open his eyes.

  "Nik?" he murmured. "Anna, Helen, Alexius? Major Skleros? What in the name of all the gods are you all doing here?"

  Lady Commenae and Lady Manzikes both cried aloud for joy, and rushed to embrace their father with such speed that they nearly knocked Miranda to the floor. Major Skleros bowed his head and let out a sigh of relief so deep it sounded as though he had been holding onto it for days.

  "Empress be praised," he murmured.

  Nikephorus looked as though tears might spring to his eyes. The Lord Commenae had a smile on his face that made him look even more foolish than normal.

  Lord Manzikes took his daughters in his arms. "I...I hardly understand. Clearly I have missed something important."

  "No," Anna whispered. "Not important. Not now that you're here."

  Lord Manzikes smiled fondly. "So you say, but it must have been something to have brought you together with Major Skleros."

  Major Skleros came to attention with a loud stamp of his foot. "Seventh Legion Commena Eudora Valeria Victrix reporting for duty, sir!"

  "What has been going on in my absence?" Lord Manzikes asked. He looked at Miranda. "Young lady, I do not believe we've had the pleasure."

  Miranda bowed from the waist. "Filia Miranda Callistus, of Corona province, my lord. I am a healer, of sorts. And now my work is done."

  "Someone must tell me what is going on," Lord Manzikes said.

  Nikephorus smiled paternally, his tone when he spoke both fond and jovial, "I'll let your daughters explain it all to you. Alexius, Major, Filia Miranda; let's leave them too it."

  It was a dismissal casually couched, but a dismissa
l nonetheless. Miranda followed the three officers out of the room - Octavia was her constant shadow - and out onto the first floor balcony. The faded maroon carpet shifted lightly beneath her footsteps.

  The three men formed three sides of a square, the Lord Commenae and Major Skleros facing one another and Nikephorus facing Miranda as she joined them.

  It was Nikephorus who spoke for all of them. "Filia Miranda. On behalf of the Imperial Army, and on my own account, I would like to thank you. Should you ever have need of the army's assistance we are in your debt."

  "Thank you, sir." Miranda allowed herself a small smile. "When I am next in need of a legion of soldiers I will remember you said that."

  Lord Commane chuckled. "You have the gratitude of the Commenae family also, Filia, which you may find more useful in this world of politics and nobility into which you have launched yourself. In addition, the matter of your fee: will five hundred eternals cover the cost, do you think?"

  Miranda boggled at him for a moment. "Five hundred...yes, yes I should think that would be quite adequate. Though, should not Lord Manzikes help to decide-"

  "You misunderstand me, Filia," the Lord Commenae said. "I have no wish to burden Lord Manzikes at such a time, the Commenae family will handle all your expenses."

  Miranda blinked. "Why would you do such a thing?"

  "My father was murdered by my own uncle when I was a small boy," the Lord Commenae said. "Lord Manzikes and his late wife took me in. His Lordship is a second father to me. And Anna's happiness is dearer to me than all the treasures of my house." He smiled. "If that is acceptable to you, Filia Miranda, I can have the gold delivered first thing tomorrow."

  "You have that much money to hand?"

  "It will represent most of my current holdings in coin, but I daresay I can find some more if I need it. The wealth of the Commenae family was founded on the spoils of conquest, but it is maintained through usury. I am the largest money lender in this city, and beyond. It is not a well which ever runs dry, and there is always a repayment due."

  "I see," Miranda murmured, half wondering if she should have asked him for more money.

  "Far be it from me, Filia, to tell you what to do with your own wealth, but if I were you I would ask Lord Quirian if you can store your holdings in his vault - I am sure that he has one - for the time being. One can hardly keep five hundred eternals under the bed."

  Miranda nodded. "I probably shall. I think that is where he is storing my wages in any case."

  "Filia, I would like to ask you about something you said earlier," Major Skleros said, cutting in. "You said the poison they used on his Lordship was used by the Crimson Rose?"

  "That is correct," Miranda replied. "To my knowledge they used it to assassinate the praetor last year, and the proconsul before this one four years ago. Including Lord Manzikes, I have treated three victims of it."

  "Why in the Empire would the Crimson Rose want to murder Lord Manzikes?" Lord Commenae asked. "They've not struck outside of Corona Province since the Revolt of the Covenant ended."

  "Major Commenae," Dux Nikephorus said. "This is not a matter to be discussed in front of...outsiders."

  Miranda smiled thinly. "Don't mind me, gentlemen, I'll leave you to your plotting. I'm sure I can find my own way out."

  The Lord Commenae said, "But before that, Filia Miranda, one more thing: you have seen this poison before, how is it usually administered? Food? Drink?"

  "Not drink certainly, it is too thick and dark, it would be seen," Miranda replied. "Food...it might be disguised in a particularly thick broth, or perhaps a sauce on meat; but in both the victims I treated prior to Lord Manzikes the method was a poisoned blade. The victims were scratched with a very slender weapon, on the hand or leg, while in a crowded space. Neither spotted their assailant and, at the time, neither really noticed the injury."

  "I see," the Lord Commenae said. "Thank you, Filia."

  "Aye, thank you," Major Skleros said. "Now, if you'll excuse us, your work is done but ours remains to do. Sergeant Abraham! Get a couple of skivvies up here with mops and buckets to clean that pile of shit off the floor in his lordship's room. And have that soup brought up here on the double, he's awake and most likely hungry too. So tell Syphax to start working on something more solid to follow. Lucius! Go through his lordship's wardrobe and find him something to wear, then look through the rest of his clothes and see if you can see any tears in it. Levi! Make sure the bath is at a decent temperature, his lordship might want a wash."

  He kept giving such orders until Miranda was out of earshot, whereupon she saw him turn back into a huddle with Dux Nikephorus and the Lord Commenae. Miranda made no effort to overhear them as she walked as swiftly as she could down the steps and back into the hallway. Octavia drew level with her.

  "What are they talking about?" she asked.

  "They fear that Prince Antiochus, or someone at the palace at least, tried to murder Lord Manzikes," Miranda said. "Hence I am eager to go before they must kidnap me to keep their secrets."

  "But Lord Father says that the prince is a force for stability against the dukes," Octavia said.

  "And it is quite possible that one of Lord Manzikes' subordinates tried to murder him to take his position," Miranda muttered. "Perhaps even Dux Nikephorus himself, and this pretence of paternal concern is all an elaborate charade. However that is none of my business really, I have made Lord Manzikes and that is the extent of my involvement.

  At that moment there was an explosion, like someone had dropped a flaming touch into a vat of wine, accompanied by a crescendo of screams of pain and agony.

  "To arms!" Miranda heard someone yelling in the courtyard. "Seventh Legion to arms! Stand fast!"

  A snare drum began to beat a rapid tatoo outside, and Miranda was buffeted by soldiers pushing past her to get outside like a ship caught in a storm, tossed on the waves this way and that. It was only because Octavia grabbed hold of her and half picked her up that she did not fall over and get trampled by the men of the seventh who rushed outside to confront whatever menace awaited them. Some pulled on their helmets as they ran, others buckled their swords onto their waists. Some had no shields, some had no armour. Yet they all ran out.

  Through the doorway, which they flung open in their headlong rush, Miranda could see that a section of the courtyard wall enclosing the Manzikes' house had been smashed down, as if by a siege engine, though no such weapon was in evidence. Around the breach, and in the gateway, lay mounds of bodies: the men who had guarded the gate, and those of Lord Quirian's Lost who had escorted Miranda to this place. Their limbs had been severed, or worse perhaps, though it was hard to tell at a distance. And in the midst of the carnage, his sandals and feet stained with blood, stood man draped in a black cloak, hiding his face behind a hood and a mask, holding a sword in one hand and a curved knife in the other, both weapons already bloody and dripping. All that was visible beneath his hood was a pair of bright blue eyes, glowing like fire.

  He stared with those bright eyes at the soldiers rushing to confront him as if their numbers dismayed him not at all. On the contrary, it was the men of the Seventh who seemed dismayed by what one man had already done.

  But then Major Skleros was amongst them, forcing his way through the troops to stand at their head, his red cloak rustling in the breeze; his voice was as loud as a trumpet call, cutting through fear and doubt and uncertainty, rallying men to arms, even to face death.

  "Seventh Legion!" he screamed so loud they probably heard him on the other side of the city at least. "Seventh Legion will form into line five ranks by company! Shields to the front, archers to the rear, and the next man I see falter will answer to me! Fall in! Valiant and Victorious!"

  "Valiant and Victorious!" the men yelled, as roused from their stupour they rushed to form a sturdy line, barring the hooded intruder's way any closer to the house of Lord Manzikes. The men at the front locked their shields, the archers knocked arrows to their strings, those who had spears prepared t
o throw them.

  "I don't know who you are," Narses said, gesturing at the intruder. "But you'll get no further. I demand that you surrender in the name of the Empress."

  "Who am I?" the hooded man replied. "I am...I am justice! And I have come for Tiberius Manzikes at long last. Let him come out, or let him hide, either way he shall pay for his sins."

  "You'll have to get past me first," Narses growled, drawing his sword.

  "I'm very glad you said that, Major Skleros," the hooded man said as he began to advance upon the Seventh's battle line.

  "Archers!" Narses shouted. "Commence volley fire by line: loose!"

  The first arrows rose into the sky as the hooded man began to run.

  Miranda felt herself jerked upwards as Octavia lifted her up and began to carry her at a brisk run out of sight of the fighting and into the recesses of the Manzikes' house.

  "Octavia, what are you doing?" Miranda demanded.

  "What I swore to Lord Father that I'd do," Octavia said. "I'm the last of the Lost, I have to keep you safe."

  Miranda could see nothing now, but she could still hear the angry shouts, the screams of pain, the curses, the clashing sound of weapons that she knew so well from all her days at the arena, watching Michael and praying that today was not the today his luck ran out.

  Whose luck is running out today, as blood is spilled on stone instead of sand? How many of those men out there have sisters who will weep over their bodies?

  How can one man deal so much death.

  Octavia opened the door to a broom cupboard and threw Miranda bodily inside of it. Miranda cried out as she struck the wall and brooms and mops half fell on her.

  "Be quiet," Octavia hissed. "Stay here. Whatever happens I'll protect you, I promise."

  "What are-" Miranda had time to say before Octavia slammed the door on her.

  And then all Miranda could do was listen to the sounds of fighting raging outside. The sounds of fighting, and the sounds of screaming.

  Nothing she heard really told her what was going on, unless the continued sounds of battle told her that Major Skleros and his men had not yet stopped the hooded intruder. One man against hundreds, how is it possible? There were more explosions, more howls of agony, more cries of anger. Someone, many someones, howled like wolves on the hunt, but many of those howls were cut off before they could finish.